She’s right. I am a coward.
I sink onto the floor because my legs aren’t cooperating, elbows braced on my knees. My hands shake just enough to make megrit my teeth. I don’t know how long I sit there before I hear quiet steps behind me.
“Daddy?” Aria’s small voice makes something inside my chest twist painfully.
I sit up straighter, swipe my palms over my face. “Hey, sweetheart.”
She climbs onto the step beside me, hugging her knees. “Why do you look sad?”
I swallow, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
She studies me, really studies me, the way she only does when something scares her. “Where’s Miss Ella?”
I stare straight ahead at nothing. “She… went home.”
“Did she cry?”
The question slices me open. “No,” I answer softly. “She didn’t cry.”
“She looked like she was when she left,” Aria whispers. “You’re lying. I heard you. Did you make her sad?”
Oh God.
I close my eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”
Aria scoots closer, rests her head against my arm. “I love Miss Ella.”
My throat tightens. “I know you do.”
“She makes you happy,” she adds. “And she makes me happy too.”
I swallow hard because the truth in her little voice is the most devastating part of all.
“Daddy?” she whispers.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Are you gonna stop being happy now?”
The air leaves my lungs in one sharp breath. I shake my head quickly, wrapping my arm around her small shoulders. “No. I’m not stopping anything. I’m right here. Always.”
She nods, accepting that easily like kids do, believing you even when you’re breaking.
“I’m tired,” she murmurs.
Yesterday was a long day, so I’m not surprised she wants to keep on sleeping.
“Come on,” I say, standing and lifting her in my arms.
She wraps around me like she used to when she was smaller. I tuck her into bed gently, smoothing her hair back, kissing her forehead twice because she needs it, and because I need it more.
“Get some rest, sweetheart,” I whisper.
“Okay, Daddy.”
When I stand back up, the room feels too quiet. The whole cabin feels too empty. Too wrong. I walk back to the porch because I can’t stand being inside. The sun is still high up in the sky, unforgiving. I have to get back to work. More responsibilities await me. But for now, I just need five minutes to myself.
I sink into the porch chair, elbows on my knees, hands clasped. Ella’s gone, and I didn’t stop her. Because maybe letting her walk away is the only thing I’m good at. Maybe that’s all I’ve ever been good at—losing the people I love most.
