Page 87

“Sweetheart, you knew that step stool was broken.”

A shaky hiccup. “I forgot.”

“Okay. It’s okay. Accidents happen.” He pulls her into a careful hug. “I think you’re going to need some stitches, baby girl. Let’s go get this fixed up while Uncle Mike cleans up the glass.”

I can count on one hand the number of times Dean has “pulled rank” with me. A few times when Ella was sick, or when I suggested it might be a good idea to let Ella adopt a pet. In all the years we’ve been whatever we were to each other, he’s never truly shut me out.

Until now.

For so long Dean has leaned on me, and I’ve taken a certain amount of pride in that. Now, as I scan the floor littered with chunks of broken ceramic and drops of blood, I’m at a loss. There’s nothing I can do to fix this.

Without a backward glance, he sweeps his little girl out of the room long enough to put a shirt on and grab his keys. I stand when they approach the front door, hoping to apologize, to beg him not to let this mess with his head.

“Dean.”

He won’t look at me . The door opens and closes with a quiet but final sounding click.

Lead fills my belly as I stare at the door. It only gets heavier when I send an “I’m sorry” text that never gets answered.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Michael

By the time I’ve gotten every speck of ceramic cleaned up and made my way to Belle Argo General, there’s a cloud hanging over me that’s darker than the sky outside. A massive boulder has replaced the pizza we ate for dinner, and it’s made entirely out of foreboding.

The look on Dean’s face when he left, I can’t get it out of my head. Anger or judgment I could have handled, but I could swear it was more like sorrow. Loss. Like someone had died.

Whatever it was, he’s never looked at me that way before.

Before I reach Ella’s room, I’m already fearing the worst. What I find, though, is an exhausted Dean curled awkwardly in a hospital chair, and Ella’s nowhere in sight.

He wakes up when I tap gently on the side of his face. For a moment, I think he’s forgotten he’s mad at me or blaming me or whatever the hell that look was about. He blinks sleepily and gives an almost-smile, placing his hand over mine before he stiffens and pulls away.

Fuck. I haven’t felt this helpless since Billie died.

“They took Ella up for X-rays,” he explains. “To make sure there’s no fracture or something, I guess.”

He speaks with thick, mumbly words as he wakes, but his expression is already guarded. He pulls his long legs up and wraps his arms around them.

“Dean, this wasn’t your fault.” The words catch in my throat, make my chest ache.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” His laugh lacks any humor. “If I had remembered to move the step stool, if I had been watching her… If I hadn’t been with you.”

Every muscle in my back pulls tight while the silence stretches between us. “This wasn’t my fault, either. Like you said, it was an accident.”

Like Billie’s death. The thing I spent too long blaming Dean for. Is this my karma?

“No. No, it was mine. She’s my responsibility. And I…” He deflates against the bed. “I was so distracted by you, I forgot about my responsibilities.”

“Come on. You couldn’t forget your responsibilities if you tried. Not with Ella.”

“But I do, Mike. When I’m with you, I forget.”

“Sometimes you need to give yourself a break from the pressure. You’d make yourself crazy otherwise.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t, though. Maybe I don’t deserve to.” His hand shakes as he runs it through his hair. I try to reach for it, but he pulls way.

For fuck’s sake. “Even I don’t think you need to keep beating yourself up like this. Even I can admit Billie’s death was nobody’s fault. She had a blood clot. The doctors didn’t catch it in time. If the doctors and nurses didn’t know Billie was about to die, how could you have?”