“Whatever,” she mutters into her pillow.
I laugh under my breath, roll over too, and pull the covers higher. Tomorrow’s a new day. The real Valentine’s Day.
* * *
By the time Karissa shuffles out of the bedroom in the morning, her hair’s a tangled mess. Emma’s strapped in her high chair, banging her hands for more fruit. I’ve already set the table—eggs, toast, coffee—and the flowers are waiting in the center.
I walk over to greet her with a warm, gentle hug and kiss to her head. “Happy Valentine’s,” I say.
“Happy Valentine’s,” she says, muffled by my chest.
I pull back. “How you feel?”
“Not the worst I’ve been, but not great.”
“Yeah, I figured.” I tip my chin toward the table. “I made breakfast.” Then I grab the white bouquet off the table and hold it out. “And these…these are for you, my bride.”
Her lips curve and her eyes soften. “Aw.” She takes them carefully, like they mean more than she’ll say out loud.
I nod toward the counter, where the pink bouquet still sits. “And those are for Emma. She didn’t really care, though. Just tried to eat ’em.”
That gets a laugh out of her, the first real one this morning. “When did you even manage to get these?”
“All of us told Mason what we wanted. Made him play delivery boy since he’s the only one in town.”
That earns another small smile. Her attention turns to Emma, talking to her, telling her she missed her. I put the food on the table and we sit down together.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. Karissa stares down at her plate, playing with the eggs with her fork, before speaking.
Finally, her voice comes out quietly. “Cody, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
I set my fork down, leaning back a little so she knows she’s got my full attention. “I told you, I’m not mad, I’m worried. There’s a difference. And I don’t think you’re hearing why.”
Her shoulders drop, and she still won’t look at me. “I know I screwed up.”
I don’t answer right away. I let the silence sit, because sometimes she fills it if I don’t.
Sure enough, she swallows, blinking fast, voice shaky. “I know I shouldn’t have used it to cope with my depression.”
That hits like a punch, the way she says it so plainly. My chest tightens.
“I get it was just this one time,” I say carefully, “but I also know how easy it is for one time to turn into a habit. And that thought terrifies me, Riss. I can’t watch you go down that road.”
Her eyes finally lift to mine, glassy and red. “I don’t want to go down that road either. I just—” Her voice breaks. “I wanted to shut my head off for a night.”
“I get it, babe. I’ve been there. But it’s a dark place to be.”
She blinks at me, wiping her eyes, confused. I can tell she didn’t expect that. I’ve never told her that before. Not many people know, mostly because there’s not much to tell. Just a stretch of time when Bree walked out, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Months of numbing, pushing through the days, pretending I was fine until my family finally sat me down like an intervention. That was enough to snap me out of it.
I clear my throat, trying to find the right words. “What I’m saying is…I know how easy it feels to reach for something that promises quiet. But it doesn’t fix anything. It just makes the climb out harder.”
Her lip trembles, and she grips her fork like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. My chest aches watching her like this. I push my chair back and walk around the table.
Leaning down, I cross my arms around her chest, pulling her gently back against me.
She exhales shakily, her head tilting until it rests against mine. Her voice is barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“I know, baby. It’s okay,” I murmur, kissing the crown of her head. I hold her tighter, not letting go until I feel the tension start to leave her shoulders, until her breathing evens out against me.
