“I’ve got you,” I reassure him. “You’re inside, safe, with me.”
“My dad,” he starts, voice shaking with effort. “He, uh, he...”
“Take your time,Sunshine.” I drag my nails across his scalp, and hepushes intomy touch like a needy kitten.
“I didn’t know it was going to storm.” He changes the topic,seemingly outof nowhere. “I-I usually know ahead of timeand prepare.”
“Prepare how?”
He shrugs. “Weather radio, flashlight,all the curtains shut, a weighted blanket.”
“I can shut the curtains if you want.”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather you be my weighted blanket.”
“I can do that.” I tug the throw blanket he had around his shoulders, pulling it from behind him and draping it over the both of us. “For as long as you need.”
“What if I said forever?”
“Then I’d say forever and a day.”
“I love you, Scarlet.”He clings to me likeI’mhis lifeline, and while I hate seeing him so scared,Ilove being able to be strong for him.
He’s been relentless in his pursuit of my safety, so if I can offer even a sliver of the comfort he’s given me, then I’ll do it.
“I love you, too. So much.” Ikiss his neck, holding him close.“Do you... do you want to finish what you were saying about your dad? No pressure, though.”
Hedoesn’tanswer right away, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the storm outside to keep us company.
“It was my fault that my dad died.” His shoulders shake as he silently cries. “He died because of me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”I wish I could reassure him with my words alone, but Ican’t. So, Isettle in, determined to sit here with him for as long as ittakes forhim to feel safe, secure, and loved.
It’sstill raining, but the wind, thunder, and lightning have all slacked off tremendously.
“I-Iwasseven. It had been a week of non-stop rain, and we finally had a patch of sun.I begged to go outside, and my parents were tired of me bouncing off the walls and being underfoot, so they agreed.” He sucks in another ragged breath,and I swear my heart breaks for this man.He’sso strong for everyone else.Who’sstrong for him?
“Iwas out there for hours.” He huffs out a laugh, but it holds no humor. “Stageda whole battle in the mud with my Army menandSauce—mystuffed rhino.Stayed outside untilMom called me in for dinner. I remember we had meatloaf—my favorite—so I ran inside when she called me. Forgot allabout my Army men and Sauce. Until the storm rolled in.I beggedDadto get Sauce. Screamed and cried.He eventuallyagreed, threw on hisraincoatandran out to get him, but...”
“Take your time.” I snuggle in deeper to him, resting my head on his shoulder as he struggled to compose himself. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”
“He got struck by lightning.Wentto cardiac arrest.Didn’tmake it.Wedidn’tknow until afterward that he had an enlarged heart and arrythmia. It was basically—fucking hell—it was a perfect storm.”
My heart absolutely breaks formy sweet man. It shatters into a million pieces as I imagine him as kid,with dirt smeared on his cheek and knobby knees, thinkingit’shis fault his dad’s dead.For him carrying that guilt all these years.
“Ellis, baby,” I start, sitting up so I can really look at him. “You know it’s not really your fault, right?”
“Logically?” He shrugs and then tenses as alow roll of thunderrumbles outside,longand low, like a jet plane idling overhead. Thankfully, nolighteningfollows.“Sure. Every therapistI’veever hadhas saidas much. Beck—my current—reallylikes to hammer down this point. But...”
“But logic doesn’t always win when it comes to things like grief.”
“Exactly.” He leans back against the couch, dragging me with him soI’msplayed across his chest.
We both fall quietas the storm winds down, until finally, Ellis says, “I still have him, you know.”
“Have who?”Maybe he means his dad’s ashes?
“Sauce.”It’sbarely a whisper, butit hits me with the force of asledgehammer.He blames himself for his dad’s death but still has the stuffy he died retrieving.My heart simultaneously melts and breaks for him.
