Chapter Seven #2
“Hey,” York said, his voice impossibly soft.
“It’s alright,” he said, reaching out to touch my shoulder.
When I didn’t shrug him off, he pulled me closer until my head was against his chest. Those giant arms of his went around me tightly, tight enough that I almost felt like he could hold me together as I fell apart.
“I know,” he murmured as I cried into his chest. “You’ve been holding it down all alone for too long.”
My arms slid from my face to wrap around him as his tightened even more around me. And, God, it just felt so good to be held. Because he was right. I had been all alone for so long. I never had anyone to lean on, to do something nice for me, to give me a hug after a hard day.
“Things are gonna get easier now,” he assured me as his hand slid up and down my spine. “I’m gonna do everything I can for her. And you.”
If he was trying to get me to cry harder, it was working.
It had been a long few years. And because our living situations often meant I was never alone, I also never let myself cry. I didn’t want Denali to know how much I was struggling. She was too sensitive; she would get too upset. So I just tamped it down.
All those years of tears were pouring out right then, though. All the frustration, uncertainty, fear, and pain that I’d been keeping down finally overflowed.
And York, a practical stranger, just held me until I ran out of tears.
“That was a long time coming, huh?” he asked, turning away to grab me tissues—which he also supplied when he’d stocked this apartment.
I turned away to blow my nose and nodded.
“The washing machine was what did you in, huh?” he asked, tone light, not harping on the obvious seriousness of the situation.
“Have you ever washed clothes in the tub?” I asked.
“No.”
“It’s a surprising amount of work. My arms are stronger now than ever before. But I’m happy not to do that again.” I sniffled hard. “Thank you for this,” I told him. “Denny is over the moon about that room.”
I just hoped we could stay. For once, there was a real chance.
Because unlike in the past, this place in no way tied back to me.
No one knew about my connection with York.
His name on the lease agreement worked in my favor.
So long as I did my work off the books, nothing at all in this state would trace back to me.
Unless I had to put Denny in school.
But that was months away still. And I could opt to homeschool her, so long as I found a way for her to interact with other children.
I wanted her to have the school experience. But at this point in our lives, safety mattered just slightly more.
Anyway, those are problems for another day.
“I don’t need thanks. It’s the least I can do. But I would like to maybe have an adult conversation with you when Denali isn’t—”
“Mommy?”
She had good timing.
I knew I had to have that conversation with York, but I was a little too raw and vulnerable right then. I needed time to wrap my head around this new reality. Then I could sit him down and explain everything. Or, at least, what I knew. Which wasn’t much.
“Yeah, munchkin?” I called, hoping she wouldn’t question my red eyes as I opened the door.
“I want my toys from the car.”
“We should go pick up the rest of them from the motel,” I said.
“If you want to give me the motel and car keys, I can do that for you,” York offered.
“Can he?” Denali, who clearly didn’t want to leave her new home, asked.
“I don’t mind,” York said under his breath as he read my face.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“And we can stay?”
“Yep,” York answered. “And I will make sure to get all your toys and clothes from your old room.”
“And my toothbrush. Mommy left it charging.”
“I will empty every drawer,” York promised her as I fished for the two sets of keys.
With that, York was on his way, and I toured back through the house, opening all the closets. I found that he’d stocked towels, washcloths, first aid kits, medicine—both adult and children’s—cleaning supplies, and a vacuum.
Then, when I made it to the kitchen, I found pots, pans, cutlery, dishes, and pantry supplies.
With a tightening in my stomach, I pulled open the fridge, then the freezer.
Both were stocked.
I’d never seen so much food in my life.
Better yet, he made sure that he had every one of Denali’s favorite foods. And, I realized, they must have discussed mine, too, because he’d stocked the black raspberry ice cream I loved.
“Mama?” Denali called, making me jump.
“Yeah?”
“What are you looking at?”
“Come see,” I said, ushering her over.
I wasn’t sure she remembered a time we had a full-sized fridge, and I doubt she ever saw one completely full.
“Did York do that too?” she asked.
“He did.”
“Can I have one?” she asked, pointing at one of the ice cream cones she loved.
“Sure,” I agreed, taking one out and unwrapping it.
“He’s nice, isn’t he, Mama?” she asked.
“He is. Come here.” I reached for her and lifted her up onto the counter. “Actually, I want to tell you something about York.”
“What?” she asked, biting into the chocolate-coated vanilla ice cream.
“Well, here’s the thing, munchkin. He’s not just my friend.” Her eyes were big, round, and the same color as his. Somehow, that made it easier to say the words. “He’s actually your Daddy.”