23. Winnie #3
Conrad stirred. His eyes opened, and I had a fleeting terror that he’d decide the previous day had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.
I assumed everything—learning I was a vampire, fighting an ancient monster in his living room, and nearly getting his entire family killed—had crossed some invisible line.
Instead, he looked at me and smiled.
Just smiled.
“Morning.”
My muscles relaxed. “Good morning.”
He stretched carefully and winced. “Everything hurts.”
“Well, you did get thrown into the wall.”
“I feel like that should’ve hurt more yesterday.”
“Adrenaline.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
I almost laughed at the simplicity of it. The world had almost ended. Coffee remained important. Apparently, some things were universal.
We managed to slip into the kitchen without waking the kids. Conrad started the coffee maker while I pulled ingredients from the refrigerator. We worked side by side, even though I could see movement was painful for him. Other than the broken ribs, it felt strangely normal.
Eventually, Conrad leaned against the counter. “How are they?”
I knew he wasn’t talking about pancakes. I glanced toward the living room. “They seem okay, considering.”
“Seem okay and are okay aren’t necessarily the same thing.”
“No.”
He sighed. “I don’t know how to help them process something like this.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’d say most parents don’t have a guidebook for vampire attacks.”
“That’s disappointing. Someone should publish a guide. They’d make a killing.”
I smiled.
He became serious again.
“I think we need to let them talk about it if they want to,” I said. “Last night was a lot to process. They need a safe space to discuss it and ask questions.”
He nodded. “And if they don’t want to talk about it?”
“Then today, we just let them be kids.” The answer came out before I could think about it.
Conrad studied me, then he nodded. “I think that’s the right thing to do. We won’t force them to talk about it if they don’t want to.”
When the coffee finished brewing, he poured two mugs and handed one to me. A gesture so automatic it took me a second to realize he’d done it.
He treated me like I belonged there, as if there was no question I’d still be sitting at this kitchen counter.
“Hey.” His voice softened.
I looked up.
“You know you’re not going anywhere, right?”
My throat tightened. He said it so casually. As if it were obvious. As if there hadn’t been any other possibility.
I swallowed. “Okay.”
His smile returned. “Good.”
A few minutes later the kids shuffled into the kitchen. They were sleepy, disheveled, and hungry. There was nothing abnormal about them. The sight of their innocent (well, mostly innocent) faces made me emotional. They’d been so brave.
Before I broke down into a sobbing mess in the middle of the kitchen, I focused on serving breakfast. I piled pancakes, bacon, and fruit onto each plate. It was enough to feed an army. Then again, fighting a vampire to the death tended to drain a person.
Everyone gathered around the table, and I found a cushion for Conrad to sit on. For a few minutes, the only sound was chewing.
Soon, though, Bianca asked the question I’d been expecting. “Will Bogdan come back?”
Conrad set down his coffee.
I met her eyes. “No, he won’t. He’s gone. Forever.”
She studied my face, making sure I wasn’t just trying to appease her. When she finally nodded, I could almost see the relief.
Conrad reached across the table and squeezed her shoulder. “You three were incredibly brave yesterday.”
CJ immediately perked up. “I hit him with that garlic oil multiple times.”
“You did.”
“I think it helped.”
Conrad nodded. “It absolutely helped.”
Billie smiled. “I helped, too.”
Bianca looked down at her plate. “I was so scared.”
“So was I,” Conrad said.
She looked up. “You were?”
“Absolutely.”
CJ frowned. “Really? I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”
Conrad nodded. “Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared.
Last night scared me, and honestly, I’ve been in a perpetual state of fear since your mother passed away.
Just because you become an adult doesn’t mean you aren’t scared.
Vampires are scary. Losing a loved one is scary.
Even taxes are scary.” He gave a faint smile.
“See? Being an adult is full of scary things. But what matters most is how we react to the scary things and how we learn from them moving forward.”
The room fell quiet again.
“I was terrified,” Conrad admitted. “But I kept going because you three needed me.”
Billie grabbed his hand. He squeezed hers.
CJ looked at me. “Were you scared, Winnie?”
I laughed softly, a sad little noise. “Very.”
His eyebrows shot up. “But you’re a vampire.”
“Vampires can be scared.”
“Of what?”
I looked around the table. “Mostly losing people.”
Nobody spoke for several seconds. Then Billie reached over and patted my arm. The gesture was so sincere I nearly burst into tears.
“You’re not gonna lose us,” she said.
Conrad’s eyes met mine. There was something steady there. Certain. The same certainty I’d seen when he’d told me I wasn’t going anywhere.
Outside, the world continued as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
The sun shone. Birds sang. Inside, pancakes disappeared.
Coffee was refilled. Plans for the weekend somehow shifted toward soccer practice, laundry, grocery shopping, and whether Billie could convince everyone to watch a cartoon movie later.
Life. Beautifully ordinary life. I was sitting right in the middle of it and nobody seemed interested in letting me leave.