“Yeah, she went over when school was out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Devon,” Vince said.
“Yeah.”
He had nothing else to give anyone at the moment. He felt like the bottom was going to drop out at any second so he lowered himself heavily into his father’s old car. Don talked the whole way back to the house, but Devon couldn't focus. His mind drifted back to a time when Kathy was alive.
“I’m pregnant, Devon. You’re going to be a father.”
His eyes filled with tears as she said the words he’d longed to hear. “You’re sure?”
She nodded, brushing away her own tears. “I took a home test and then immediately called Lydia.”
“Oh, my God.” He moved closer to her, hugging her carefully and pulling back with his hands on her arms. “How do you feel?”
“Right now, emotional. Mostly, I feel great though.”
He kneeled, his hands on her belly. He’d made a life with the woman he loved and he was in awe. “I’m so happy, Kathy.” He laughed and stood. “You've made me the happiest man on earth.”
He kissed her softly, holding her face in his hands and—
“Devon? We’re here.”
He jumped in surprise. Don was shaking his shoulder. He wasn't with Kathy. She was gone, and so was his Hailey. He groaned. “Oh God.”
“Are you feeling well?”
He could only shake his head.What a stupid question, he wanted to scream. He yanked on the door handle and fell out of the car, crouched and panting on the pavement of the driveway. Don hurried around the hood and squatted to help his son stand.
“Let’s get in the house and you can lie down.”
It took longer than usual for Devon to make it inside. He stumbled several times, leaning on his father for support the entire way. It wasn't until his stomach growled that he realized he’d left the sandwich on the picnic table. He sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and breathed deeply for a minute while Don hovered.
“Can you heat a can of soup for me?”
He looked up at his father, his head heavy and his neck stiff. He felt tears building again and blinked fast.
“Of course, just give me a minute.”
Devon laid his head on the table as Don moved around the kitchen. With his eyes squeezed closed he listened to the sound of the cupboard doors and the microwave. He tried to focus on that and not on the crushing weight pressing down on his chest. He tried to breathe and not focus on the feeling of suffocation threatening to pull him under. If that was what drowning was like, it was a horrible way to go.
“Here, Devon. Please eat.”
The scent of the broth filled his nostrils, and his mouth actually watered. He tried to think of when he’d last eaten, but he wasn't sure. Sometimes he missed lunch if he hit a groove at work. When he picked his head up, it spun, and he held it still with both hands. The feeling passed, and he opened his eyes to be met with the concerned gaze of his dad sitting across the table from him.
He scooped up some broth first to test his stomach. It might as well have been the finest steak made by a celebrity chef. The warmth felt soothing as it slid down his throat.
“Is it okay? It’s not too hot?”
“It’s perfect, Dad. Thanks.”
Don visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his hands falling to his lap. “Great. Do you want crackers?”
Devon shook his head. “This is fine. I know I need fluids as much as food.”
“Mom should be here soon. She wasn’t going to stay out much longer.” Don got up to get a drink from the fridge, setting a glass of orange juice in front of Devon and a bottle of water for himself. Chicken noodle soup and orange juice may have been best for a cold, but he appreciated his father’s effort to help.
“She said she had drugs.”
Don smirked. “You know she hates when you use that term.”
