Lies. Such pretty lies.
But what am I supposed to say?
Actually, your dad’s been shutting everyone at arm’s length for weeks and even though the doctor said he could take off his facial bandages, he apparently refused. So I have no idea what to expect now that we’re home, but my gut says it’s not going to be a cheerful family reunion?
Yeah. That’ll help her sleep tonight.
The temporary live-in arrangement Elena drafted means I’m still bunking in that tiny room next to Ben’s. Which honestly? I don’t know if I’m relieved or dreading. On the one hand, I get to stay close to Ben. On the other hand, I’m about to find out what living with Marco post-bear-attack actually looks like.
Neli appears from somewhere upstairs. That calm, no-nonsense energy radiating off her like she’s got the whole situation under control.
I sure wish I had even a fraction of her composure.
“Mr. Fiore is settled,” she announces. “I’ll be doing the evening dressing change in about an hour. He’s requested privacy during the procedure.”
Requested. Right. That’s one way to put “demanded everyone stay the hell away.”
“Can I see him?” Ben asks. Her voice is so small it physically hurts.
Neli’s expression softens. Just a fraction. “Let me check, okay? Your daddy might need a little time first.”
Ben nods. Accepts this with the kind of resignation no five-year-old should have mastered yet.
I stand. My knees protest. Turns out spending a month sleeping on a hospital chair and then a glorified cot at night does things to your joints. Who knew?
Neli disappears back upstairs. Ben wanders toward the kitchen where Rosa is probably already prepping dinner. Frederick gets dragged along for the ride.
I should follow. Should make sure Ben eats something. Should maintain the routine we’ve carefully constructed over the past few weeks of absolute chaos.
But instead I sink onto the bottom stair and drop my face into my hands.
Focus, Jess. You can fall apart later. Right now you have a job to do.
Except I’m not sure what my jobis anymore. Nanny? Sure. Emotional support human? Apparently. Unwitting participant in whatever psychological horror show is about to unfold? That one wasn’t in the contract Elena drafted, but then again, neither was surviving a bear attack.
My phone buzzes. A text from Ethan:Hey! Heard Marco got discharged today. Everything good? He’s not answering my texts.
I stare at the screen. My big brother. Always checking in. Always steady. Even when I’m anything but.
I type back:Define good.
Three dots appear immediately.That bad huh? Want me to swing by?
My throat tightens. God, I want to say yes. Want him to show up with his paramedic calm and big brother energy and just... fix this somehow. But what’s he going to fix? Marco’s face? Ben’s nightmares? The fact that I have no idea what version of Marco is waiting on the other side of coming home?
Not tonight. Tomorrow maybe? Ben would love to see you.
The response comes fast:Tomorrow then. Hang in there Jess.
I exit the text thread and immediately open another one.
This one from Amara:How’s he doing?
I stare at the screen. Finally:Home now. Taking it day by day.
Three dots appear and disappear and appear again. Finally:And how are YOU doing?
Oh. That’s a loaded question.
