Jackson’s blue eyes hold mine. “I think you can excuse us for wanting to see for ourselves that you’re all right after hearing your truck flipped end over end.”
“It wasn’t end over end,” I point out. “It was a single 180-degree horizontal twist.”
“Oh my God,” Ash mutters. “Every one of you. Stubborn as can be.”
“You flipped,” Jackson retorts flatly. “Your truck is totaled. You’re stuck with our concern, so deal.”
“I think what Jackson means to say,” Ash cuts in, joining him at the side of my bed, “is that we’re all glad you’re okay, Lawson. Isn’t that right?”
Jackson lets out a sigh as Ash elbows him none too gently. “Just don’t scare us like that again.”
My own exhale is heavy. “I’ll do my best.”
Jackson and Ash stay for a while before heading back to the waiting room to join the rest of the family. While the reprieve lasts, I take in my daughter. She’s staring out the window into the parking lot.
“Doing all right?” I check.
She jolts slightly before a frown settles on her face, reminding me of Remi. “Of course. Are you?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
I’m a little sore, that’s true. But apart from the mild cuts that have already been bandaged and some minor whiplash, I’m relatively unharmed. A blessing, all things considered.
Wendy gets out of her chair and approaches my bed, her eyes darting once to the door before settling on me. “You told Grandma you and Oakley need to talk about some things.”
“We do,” I agree.
“Like…relationship things?”
“Would you be okay with that?”
She huffs a breath. “Are you kidding? Of course I would be. Has this been going on since camping?”
“You could tell?” I ask, not exactly surprised she caught on. I can’t say I was trying all that hard to hide the way things had shifted between Oakley and me.
My daughter raises an eyebrow. “Dad. Everybody could tell.”
Well, Christ.
Maybe we were more obvious than I thought.
Wendy glances at the door again, perhaps checking for Oakley. He’s yet to return. “Do you love him?”
I pull in a breath, but my daughter goes on.
“He’s in love with you, Dad. He’s always been in love with you.”
My throat is so tight I have to clear it before I can speak. “How do you know that?”
“Because of the way he wouldn’t look at you,” she answers. “I didn’t even realize it until recently, but… When you were still with Mom, Oakley was always so careful not to stare at you for too long. He’d avoid certain parts of your body or turn away when you weren’t wearing a shirt. I don’t know if he was hiding it for your sake or maybe his own, but now… Now he looks at you all the time. He doesn’t even try to hide it.”
I swallow roughly.
“That’s how I know he’s always loved you,” my daughter says. “You don’t have to hide something that’s not there.”
I turn her words over as I try to compare the Oakley ofthento the Oakley of now. I haven’t noticed what she has, but… I think I’ve missed a lot. Oakley might have been right about that, much as his words hurt at the time.
“Do you ever feel like everyone else has some key you were never given?” I ask. “And you’re just trying your best to pick your way through an endless series of locks into rooms you don’t even know?”
