11. Ember #3
I inhaled the scent of rain and green things as I took a calming breath. Glenn nodded at his older cousin, grimacing. “She just yells at me to go away. Locked herself in the bathroom upstairs and won’t open the door.”
“Shit.” Jack didn’t bother kicking off his shoes before tearing up the steps. I gave Glenn a pinched-lip smile before following, the teen trailing behind us.
“Darbs,” Jack said softly, knocking on the bathroom door. He leaned his head against the jamb. “What’s wrong? Open up.”
“Go away!”
Jack grimaced as he closed his eyes. “What’s wrong, baby girl? I’m here. I want to help.”
“I said, go away!” The shrill shriek made me wince, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Jack. My shoulders prickled, and I knew I should slink up the next set of stairs and disappear into my room. This didn’t concern me. I was supposed to keep my distance.
But how could I go, when Darby was in trouble?
Jack’s hands curled around the doorframe, his face lined with tension. Worry wrinkled his brow. His shoulders hiked up, and he looked at the door as if he were considering kicking it down. When he spoke again, his voice was stern. “Darby—”
I put a hand on his shoulder, and he startled. His glare was withering, and it took all my mettle to meet his gaze. “Jack,” I said quietly, “I say this as someone who was once a thirteen-year-old girl. Tread carefully.”
“This doesn’t concern you,” he snapped, voice as harsh as his features. “Darby!”
The door flew open, and Darby’s tear-streaked face appeared in the opening. “GO. AWAY!”
She slammed the door so hard it shook in its frame.
“Darby!” Jack boomed, rapping his fist on the hollow door. Darby’s wail pierced through the closed door.
I could taste Jack’s panic in the air. Could see it in the way his head swung back and forth. In the tenseness of his neck and shoulder muscles. He inhaled, and I knew—I just knew—that whatever came out of his mouth next would do damage.
“Jack,” I snapped. “Stop.”
The harshness of my voice surprised both of us. I sounded like a different person. That one command stripped my vocal cords raw, the snap of it echoing in the hallway. He whirled on me, eyes full of murder.
But I’d been that girl once. I’d been on the receiving end of my father’s tirades when what I needed was gentleness.
I suspected Jack’s aggression came from a good place: he cared in a way my own father never had.
He was worried for Darby’s well-being when my own father had seemed to relish my pain. They weren’t the same.
But Darby didn’t need his burning-hot emotion right now. She didn’t need his panic. She needed calm and care and cool stability.
I wouldn’t let him make a mess of this.
I met his gaze, lifting my chin. “You need to take a couple of slow, deep breaths right now, because if you tear that door off its hinges, you will do damage that cannot be fixed. And I’m not talking about physical damage to the house.”
He snarled, but no sound came out. Somewhere, in that whirling mass of panic and fear, he knew I was right. He shoved a hand in his hair and pulled, and a flash of real fear went through his eyes.
I slipped past him and put my face close to the door. “Darby, are you safe right now?”
A sniffle. “What?”
“Are you in immediate danger?”
“No,” came the sullen answer, followed by a choked sob.
“Are you having any chest pain?”
“Chest pain?” Even though the door was closed, I could see her sassy arched eyebrow.
“Chest pain, heart palpitations, trouble breathing? Something that might require immediate medical attention?”
“Oh my God, no.”
“Good.” I went through my mental catalogue of risks from most severe to least. The next on the list was, “Are you bleeding? Do you have an injury?”
There was a pause. While I’d been asking Darby questions, Jack had stood behind me with his hands on his hips and his gaze focused on the floor. The heat of him seared my back. That pause made his head snap up.
I held up my hand to stop him from talking. The seconds trickled by, and he vibrated with stress and worry.
But he didn’t speak.
Finally, Darby’s voice came through the door, small and scared. “I… Can you come in here?”
I blinked. “Um. Me?”
“Yes, you!” Darby wailed.
“Okay! Okay, yes! Fine.” It was my turn to look at Jack with panicked eyes. He scowled at me, then shooed his hands toward the door to hurry me in.
The lock on the bathroom door snicked, and I knew it was open. I took a deep breath, glanced at Jack one more time, and went inside.
JACK
I was not okay. I was very fucking far from okay.
It had seemed like yesterday when I’d held Darby for the first time, a little red, wrinkly bundle angry at being expelled from the womb. From that moment on, my life had changed. I was a father. I’d vowed to be the best father I could be, no matter what. No matter who. No matter when.
Darby was all I had, and I was all Darby had.
As I leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door, I forced myself to calm down and realized the tightness that had gripped my chest had eased more than I’d expected.
It was because of Ember; I trusted her. I trusted her with the most precious person in my life—my daughter—at a moment when I felt utterly lost and powerless.