Page 7

“Hey.” Her single-word greeting sounded so familiar and comforting that Ash found himself blinking back a new set of tears. He heard some rustling on the other end of the line and then what sounded like a door shutting. “You know, texting me to say ‘fuck, it’s snowing so hard I can’t see’ and then ghosting me for hours is really, really not cool.”

He held in a snort of laughter through his tears, and he sniffled quietly as he wiped his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Shai. I’ve been . . . exhausted. I am exhausted. Bri just went down.”

“God, Ash, seriously—where the hell are you? My mom said they shut down I-5 around five o’clock and I must’ve texted you a billion times since then and—”

“Shai!” Ash whisper-yelled into the phone, his stomach sinking as he heard a small noise from the bassinet. But when he glanced over at Bri again, she was still sleeping peacefully. He closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair, and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, okay?” he said, still keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry, I should have called you but . . . but it was bad. Like, really, really bad. And I’m still shaky.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Yeah. Sorry. I—oh god—” All the air left his lungs, and he gasped as he leaned forward, suddenly realizing what he’d done, how much he’d made her worry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have called or texted earlier. I’m sorry. Yes, we’re okay, and we’re safe. We got off the freeway almost as soon as it started snowing, and we’re at, um, I think it’s a Hilton-something-or-another in south Redding. The freeway’s shut down right at this exit. There’s like a foot of snow already, and—and god, I’m so sorry.”

Bri whimpered and let out a weak half-cry from her bassinet, and Ash sniffled as he jumped up from the chair. His stomach ached, but he ignored it, and he didn’t hesitate as he stuck the phone between his shoulder and ear and then reached out and gently lifted his niece. He murmured quiet words to her and cradled her close.

“Is . . . is she okay too?” Shaina asked, but this time, Ash could hear the slight tremble in her voice.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s just as exhausted as I am, I think. She’s still sleeping, but she just fell asleep a few minutes ago, after . . .”

He trailed off, part of him not wanting to admit just how terrible the whole afternoon had been and just how wholly unprepared he was for all of this. They’d had to stop many more times than he’d expected. Usually for diaper changes—so, so many super-messy diaper changes. And he’d realized after about the third stop that he hadn’t packed nearly enough changes of clothes for Bri—because her diapers apparently hadn’t been sufficient to contain everything. He’d spent more time than he cared to admit digging through boxes packed in the back of the U-Haul trailer he was towing—all that time in the freezing cold while holding a half-naked four-month-old baby wrapped up in multiple blankets to keep her warm. Trying not to cry.

And then, when the snow had started just before they’d reached Redding, his plan to try to make it to Medford before stopping for the night had slammed to a halt. He hated driving in the snow. And going through the Siskiyous, hauling a trailer behind his capable-but-not-really Rav-4? With a four-month-old baby having stomach issues? While it was snowing?

Bad idea.

So they’d pulled off as soon as he’d seen a hotel. Not more than an hour later, six inches of snow had piled up, and by around eight o’clock, I-5 had been closed.

Shaina was quiet, and Ash let out a short breath and settled back down in the armchair, still carefully holding Bri. “I-I mean”—he gazed down at the sleeping baby, and his heart clenched, again—“it’s been a rough day.”

“I can just imagine. I’m so sorry, Ash,” Shaina said softly, all hints of teasing and irritation now gone from her voice. “I wish I’d been able to drive up there with you. Stupid finals.”

Ash forced a quiet laugh and closed his eyes. “The timing does suck,” he admitted. “Although I guess we’re lucky your finals are earlier than mine?” He paused and let out a short breath. “And have I reminded you lately how wonderful you are?”

He heard Shaina huff what sounded like a laugh of her own. “Well, I think it’s been at least a day, so, you know, you’re totally due to remind me again.”

“You’re the best, Shai.” He meant it. She was. “It was great to see you, and I miss you already. And I miss—I miss—”

God, why did everything have to be so raw still? He was nearly shaking, sick to his stomach.

“I know, Ash. Me too. But remember, you’re not alone. Okay? You’re—”

“It feels like I am, though,” he cut in, his voice much louder than he’d intended. “I’m here alone right now. Alone in this stupid hotel room with my niece because my sister—my sister’s gone. And my parents too. Why did she have to die, Shai? Why? I don’t—I don’t understand.”

Bri woke then, because Ash was an idiot and shouldn’t have spouted off all of that nonsense so loudly when she was finally sleeping. She whimpered and then let out a long wail, her face turning red and her eyes scrunched closed.

“Shh, shh, no, no, don’t cry, baby girl,” he murmured as he stood up, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could shift Bri to what he hoped would be a more comfortable position. He sighed with both frustration and exhaustion. “Sorry, Shai, I gotta go,” he said after Bri finished a second wail that was thankfully not quite as loud as the first.

“Yeah, okay. Love you. Call me in the morning. Please.”

“I promise.”

“Good night, Ash.”

“Night, Shai.”

He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Then he rocked baby Bri in his arms as he turned toward the bed. “Don’t you want to sleep in your nice bassinet? Please. Pretty, pretty please.”

She’d quieted down again, but the moment he started to lower her into the bassinet, she began to cry. Or, rather, threaten to cry—her face turning pink and her bottom lip pouting out.

“Ahh, okay, no bassinet. Okay, okay.” Ash brought her back up to his shoulder and straightened, closing his eyes. And he continued murmuring to her quietly, swaying in place, trying desperately to keep himself from crying again too. He eyed the bed longingly.