Katia nods like that sounds like the best thing in the world.
I lead her upstairs, talking softly the whole way.
I open the guest room door. “I’m going to help you,” I say firmly. “I promise.”
Katia nods against my shoulder. “Okay.”
I help her get ready for bed and tuck her in like she’s a small child.
I sit beside her until her breathing evens out.
Only then do I slip out and quietly close the door behind me.
Downstairs, Jake is in the kitchen washing his hands. Bear is sprawled on the floor, chewing on something.
Jake looks up the second he hears me coming down the stairs. “Is she okay?”
I exhale. “I think so. For now, at least. She wants to go to rehab, but she can’t get in anywhere. They all have waiting lists. Months before she can get help.”
His jaw tightens. “That’s not acceptable.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Tell that to the rehab facilities.”
Jake steps closer. “Where is she now?”
“In the guest room. She’s asleep. She hasn’t slept in two days.”
He nods once.
My throat tightens. “I’m sorry.”
He frowns. “For what?”
“For bringing my mess into your house,” I say quietly. “This has nothing to do with you,so—”
“It does have something to do with me,” he cuts in, firm but calm. “She’s your sister.”
He steps closer, warm and steady in front of me.
“You live here,” he says, his voice low. “You’re my wife. Your problems are my problems.”
His gaze holds mine.
“And I can help. I have people. Doctors. Connections.”
His tone shifts into captain mode. Certain. Decisive.
“We’ll get her a place.”
Relief and guilt twist together in my stomach.
“Jake—”
“No,” he cuts in gently. “Don’t apologize. Just let me.”
I swallow hard.
“Okay,” I whisper.
