Prologue #2
Dad taps one finger against the legal pad. “I can make the calls, sit beside you while you make them, or stay out of it. Your choice.”
My instinct is to tell him I have it handled. Josie’s chocolate-covered fingers and my shaking hand around the fork say otherwise.
“Sit with me,” I say. “I’ll make the calls.”
Dad nods once.
I look at Mom. “Can you keep Josie with you while I shower?”
“Of course.”
“I want to help Grandma make the next pancakes,” Josie says.
Mom smiles. “Then we’d better save some batter.”
The knot in my chest gives way, and air finally reaches the bottom of my lungs. I still have to make every decision that matters. I still have to be the father Josie needs when I have no idea what tomorrow is supposed to look like.
This morning, taking care of her means letting the people who love us carry part of the weight.
The shower washes away three days of sweat. It does nothing for the guilt coiled in my gut.
I pull on clean clothes and head downstairs, but I can’t face the legal pad waiting on the kitchen table. Through the back window, I spot Axel sitting on the porch steps with two mugs beside him.
He glances over when I step outside. “You look terrible.”
“Apparently, everyone has agreed to tell me that today.”
“It would be rude to lie during a family crisis.”
I lower myself onto the step beside him. He hands me one of the mugs, and I wrap both hands around it. The coffee is strong and black, exactly how I drink it.
“Mom made it,” he says.
“I assumed you didn’t suddenly learn how.”
“I know how to operate a coffeepot.”
“Knowing and doing are different things.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, just for a second.
We sit without speaking. The yard stretches out in front of us, familiar enough that I can name every place Axel and I got hurt as kids. The fence Dad made us repair after we tried jumping it on bikes. The tree Adrienne fell out of because neither of us would admit we had dared her to climb higher.
Axel braces his forearms on his knees. “You haven’t told me what happened.”
“I told you there was an accident.”
“You told everyone there was an accident.” His voice stays quiet. “I’m asking you to tell me.”
My fingers tighten around the mug. I’ve repeated the basic facts to doctors, police officers, family, and people whose names I immediately forgot. Every version sounds too simple for what it did to us.
“Krista and I had been working on a new arrangement for Josie.”
“I know.”
“She was going to spend more time here. We hadn’t made it official, but we’d agreed on it.” I look down at my coffee. “Krista was bringing some of Josie’s things from Texas so she wouldn’t have to live out of a suitcase whenever she came to Colorado.”
Clothes. Toys. Books. The stuffed horse she refuses to sleep without.
“They were driving here when it happened,” I continue. “Krista died. Josie lived. That’s the whole fucking story I have to keep telling.”
Axel doesn’t flinch at my tone. “Those are the facts. Tell me what you’ve been thinking.”
I take a drink even though the coffee has gone bitter on my tongue.
“She was on that road because of me.”
His jaw tightens. “Aiden.”
“If I hadn’t moved back here, she wouldn’t have been coming to Colorado. If I hadn’t asked for more time with Josie, there wouldn’t have been a car full of her things.”
“You wanted to be with your daughter.”
“I wanted to fix everything.”
The admission comes out harsher than I intend. I set the mug on the porch before I drop it.
“For years, Krista told me I was never there. I kept saying I was working for them, as if that made every missed dinner and broken promise acceptable.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “When she left, I blamed her for taking Josie. I told myself she was punishing me.”
Axel stays silent, which makes it impossible to turn this into an argument.
“She wasn’t punishing me,” I say. “She was tired of raising our daughter alone while I congratulated myself for paying the bills.”
“You changed.”
“Eventually.”
“You changed before the accident.”
I look at him. “Does that make any difference now?”
“It made a difference to Krista. It made a difference to Josie.”
My throat burns. I turn toward the yard because looking at him is harder.
It took a year of learning how to talk about Josie without it turning into a fight. She called when Josie lost a tooth or had trouble at school. She sent pictures without making me ask. I learned to listen instead of treating every concern like an accusation.
A week before the accident, she laughed during one of our calls. A real laugh, easy and familiar. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I heard it.
“We finally trusted each other again,” I say. “She trusted me with Josie.”
Axel’s shoulder presses lightly against mine. “She didn’t give you more time because you forced her.”
“I asked.”
“And she agreed.”
“Because I kept pushing for a life here.”
“You kept showing her you could be present.”
I shake my head. “If I had stayed in Texas, she would still be alive.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know she wouldn’t have been driving to Colorado.”
Axel looks down at his clasped hands. “I can’t give you an answer that makes that stop hurting.”
“Good, because I don’t want one.”
“I know.”
The tension drains from my shoulders.
He doesn’t tell me everything happens for a reason. He doesn’t insist Krista would forgive me or that I should forgive myself. Three days is too soon for any of that. It feels too soon to breathe without wondering why Krista can’t.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit. “Josie wakes up looking for her. She asks me questions, and every answer hurts her. I’m supposed to make her feel safe, but I’m the reason her life was changing in the first place.”
“Then deal with today.”
I turn to him.
“Feed her. Hold her. Let her ask the same question ten times if she needs to.” Axel reaches down and turns my abandoned mug by the handle. “She doesn’t need you to fix what happened. She needs you to stay.”
The edges of my vision blur, and I blink hard against the heat.
“I was supposed to show Krista that too.”
“You did.”
“Too late.”
The words break as they leave me.