Chapter 34 #3
It was clear they thought they would sleep where they were, but Travis was right. They needed to be in their own beds tonight. What we did from this point forward would set the precedent for the future, and the last thing we needed was for five kids to want to sleep with their mom every night.
“It’s okay,” Kylie whispered when Kate’s grip on her arm tightened. “Y’all can go to bed, and when we wake up, we’ll have breakfast together.”
“You promise?”
“I absolutely do,” she said with conviction.
“Can we stay home tomorrow?” Kade asked, his question directed at me.
I looked to Kylie for an answer. It was a school day, but if ever there was a valid excuse for staying home, this would be it.
“If it’s okay with your dads,” she said, meeting my gaze.
“Of course it is.”
Kylie smiled at Kade. “I would like that.”
“Come on,” Travis urged softly, gesturing toward the stairs.
“Can I put Maddox to bed?” Kylie asked, her gaze shifting between Travis and me.
I frowned because that was a ridiculous question. These were her babies, didn’t she know that?
“We’ll put ’em all down together,” Travis said, clearly picking up on the weirdness of that question.
Because it was obvious Kylie couldn’t lift him, I took Maddox from her and waited for her to get to her feet.
It didn’t take long for us to make it up the stairs, but that was when time seemingly stood still.
It took over an hour for us to get all five kids tucked into their beds and to convince them that they needed to stay there tonight.
Kate was the last to give in to sleep, but she finally did. At that point, I took Kylie’s hand and led her down the hall, intending to go downstairs. I wasn’t sure what was appropriate right now, but I figured I would take my cues from her.
“You want somethin’ to drink?” Travis offered when we stepped into the kitchen.
Kylie stood there, her gaze swinging around the space.
I glanced around, trying to see everything through her eyes.
Things were different. Of course they were.
It had been nearly two years. The corkboard that had once been on the wall, put there by Kylie to hold the kids’ artwork and important information, was no longer there.
One of the brackets on the back had fallen off, so we took it down and put it in the garage.
It was still there, still holding someone’s fingerpainting of something.
The artwork now decorated the refrigerator, and those fingerpaintings and colorful drawings were new, likely improved because the kids were a little older now.
The rooster cookie jar no longer sat out on the counter. Kate had put it in the pantry, claiming it was too difficult to look at because it was Mommy’s favorite. Whether that was true (being Kylie’s favorite), I didn’t know, but I had moved it in an effort to erase the frown from Kate’s face.
The placemats on the small table were gone, no longer used; the paper towel holder was now screwed in beneath the upper cabinet rather than sitting on the counter.
The faucet was new and basic because the original one had stopped working, and I had been too frustrated to find one that matched the decor.
Travis opened the refrigerator. “We’ve got tea, lemonade, water. A bottle of chocolate milk.”
“Haden staked his claim on the chocolate milk,” I told Travis with a grin.
He chuckled. “Of course he did.”
“You have somethin’ stronger?” Kylie asked when her gaze returned to Travis.
Travis glanced my way, and I could see his surprise. Kylie had never been much into liquor as her beverage of choice, no matter the time of day. Wine on occasion, sure.
“I do,” he told her as he moved toward her, reaching for her hand.
He led her out of the kitchen, through the living room and the foyer before stepping into his office.
I followed behind them, listening for sounds coming from upstairs. There weren’t any. Not yet, anyway.
Travis unlocked the sideboard in his office and pulled out the glass decanter of scotch. We’d taken to locking it up as soon as Kate was old enough to start snooping. Since Travis kept the office door closed and locked when he wasn’t in there, it was double-secured.
While Travis got three glasses out, Kylie took a seat on the leather couch on the far side of the room. She kicked off her shoes—a pair of simple white tennis shoes that didn’t feel like her at all—and then tucked her legs beneath her while she waited.
“You okay?” I prompted as I joined her, choosing to sit in one of the matching leather armchairs.
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.”
“I can only imagine.”
Her gaze met mine. “I truly hope you can’t.”
I could feel her pain, knew the memories of what happened were fresh. She was different, understandably so.
“But I will get better,” she whispered. A single tear followed those words, so I wasn’t sure I believed her.
Travis delivered the squat crystal glasses, each containing two fingers of scotch.
I took one even though I didn’t really want it.
I didn’t want anything to dull my senses, not even a little, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.
As it was, I was consumed by a myriad of emotions: fear, elation, sadness, just to name a few.
Kylie was alive, which altered the course of our existence yet again, and while I was grateful and hopeful, I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy road.
For any of us.