He comes up the stairs in a hurry, expression drawn tight as his eyes come to mine. “Is she still in her room?”
I nod. “I’m so sorry.”
He sighs, crouches down, then touches my cheek so gently, it’s almost as if I imagined it happening. “It’s not your fault,” he murmurs.
I nod again, but…
I know itismy fault.
He straightens and moves to Chloe’s door, fussing with the handle and?—
Pop!
I hear the lock disengage.
Rhodes slips inside, and I stay where I am as I hear the soft murmur of his words.
As I listen for long moments.
As I listen until Chloe finally begins talking too.
Only then do I force myself to go downstairs and start using my nervous energy to make Chloe’s favorite meal—homemade chicken tenders that are seasoned with ranch dressing, rice, steamed carrots, and chocolate mousse for dessert.
I move around the kitchen cooking a meal that probably won’t be eaten and then cleaning things that are already clean, but I’m barely aware of what I’m actually doing.
Most of my focus is upstairs.
Eventually—twenty minutes later, an hour, an eternity, I don’t know—the stairs creak and Rhodes appears in the doorway, exhaustion written into the lines of his face in a way that has nothing to do with a hard day at the rink and everything to do with his grieving daughter.
“How is she?” I ask softly.
He shoves his hands through his hair. “Better, I think.”
Relief washes through me so rapidly I have to grip the edge of the countertop to stay upright.
He watches me, saying nothing for several heartbeats. “She’s just scared.”
“I know.”
“She gets attached and—” A shake of his head. “I think reality intruded, and she got sad.”
“Right.” The word comes out rougher than I intended, and his expression changes.
Softens.
“This isn’t your fault,” he says gently. “We all know you’re leaving at the end of the season.”
I look away, exhale silently, blinking back the burn of my tears. “I know.”
He just waits.
And I exhale, shove my hands through my hair. “I just hate that I can’t fix it.”
“But it’s not your job to fix it.”
No.
But I stillwantto.
