Perfect Embrace by Kaylee Ryan

Chapter 22

Grayson

Slamming my office door, I run my fingers through my hair. Today’s run was heart-wrenching and so much like the tragedy of my past. It doesn’t matter how much time passes. Anytime we have to respond to a vehicle crash, my muscles constrict, and my nerves are shot.

Memories of that night and the phone call. The screams. The night I lost my wife and my sister-in-law. They always come rushing back on days like today, and for the life of me, I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how not to picture them when I pull up to a scene.

Usually, when I see that those involved are okay, I can channel it to helping them. Today, however, the outcome was tragic.

Sitting in my chair, I try to get some work done, but I can’t seem to focus. Maybe I should walk over and see Laken. I want to wrap my arms around her and feel her breathe against my neck. I need to know that she’s alive and well. I reach for my cell phone in my pocket just as it rings. I see Mom’s name and immediate worry for my daughters takes over. “Mom.”

“Gray,” she sighs. “The girls are sick. Started vomiting about an hour ago.”

Shit.I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. “Fever?”

“No fever. I think it’s just one of those twenty-four-hour things. Nancy down at the market was telling me yesterday that her grandkids just got over it. It’s been going around.”

“We just got back from a run. I have to file a report, and then I’ll be there.”

“You don’t have to. Your father and I have this under control. I just know how you are and that you would want to know. Stay at the station. They’re fine.”

“I’ll be there,” I tell her, ending the call. I’ll have to apologize for my shitty attitude when I get there. I never talk to my mom that way, and I never end a call hatefully. I never finish a call in haste, either, because I don’t know if that’s the last time I’ll talk to them. Fuck. When I hit Call on her number, she answers on the first ring. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “Grayson, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I was short with you, and you didn’t deserve that. Today has been… difficult.”

“You don’t have to explain. The girls are fine. You do what you have to do, and we’ll be here when you’re done.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I know, son. I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” This time she ends the call.

Dropping my phone to my desk, I force myself to file the report while the incident is fresh in my mind. Forty-five minutes later, I’m a mess, but I don’t let it show. All I can think about is today’s accident, and the man and woman who lost their lives, and my late wife and her sister. The two incidents are twisting together, weaving, and folding, and it has my nerves on edge.

“Hey,” I tell Canaan. “I’m heading out. The girls are sick. If you need me, you know where to find me. Shifts are covered, so if there’s a call, you shouldn’t miss me,” I tell him.

“You good?” he asks.

“Fine. Just need to get to my girls.”

He nods. “I’ll keep you updated here if anything happens.”

“Thanks, man.” I slap a hand on his shoulder and head for my truck. Once I’m on the road, I slowly drive past One More Chapter, hoping to get a glimpse of Laken, but it’s no use. Instead, I grab my phone so I can call her.

“Hey, handsome.”

I swallow hard, the emotions of the day getting the best of me. “Hey, baby.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bad accident we assisted with, and it was fatal.”

“Gray,” she murmurs. I can hear the pain in her voice, the pain for me. It makes me feel raw, spread open emotionally.

“The girls are sick,” I continue. “Mom said they’re vomiting. She thinks it’s a twenty-four-hour thing.”

“What can I do? I’ll call Mom and have her watch the store, and I’ll come to help you with them.”

“No. Don’t do that. She says they’re fine, and we don’t need you getting sick.”

“I don’t care about me. I care about helping you and the girls.”

The breath stalls in my lungs as her words sink in. She loves us. I already knew that, but today, her offer feels… different. I want to hold her close, but the guilt… the guilt eats at me. I never thought I’d love another woman other than Holly. Now, here I am, giving my heart to someone else and letting my daughters get attached to her as well. They love her too. It’s all too much today.

“We’re fine. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

“Give the girls a hug and a kiss from me?”

“You know it. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Grayson, I love you.”

I swallow hard as the memories threaten to swallow me whole. “I love you too.” Ending the call, I toss my phone in the cupholder and focus on the road. I try not to let the events of my past and the events of today distract me from driving. When I pull into my parents’ driveway, I sigh with relief.

I need to see my babies.

I’m out of the truck and racing inside. I find my parents and the girls in the living room. All four of them are on the couch, the girls sitting between them, curled up with blankets.

“Daddy, we’s got sick,” Harlow tells me.

“Yeah, it was nasty.” Hayden wrinkles her nose.

I drop to my knees in front of them, and they scramble to hug me, both at the same time. Their embrace does wonders to calm the storm raging inside me. “It looks like Nana and Pap have taken good care of you,” I tell them, pulling out of the hug.

“They wove us,” Harlow says.

It’s a simple statement yet profound coming from a four-year-old. “They do love you very much. You know who else loves you?”

“Who?” they ask at the same time.

I point to my chest.

“Daddy,” they say, giggling. It’s not the same carefree giggle, but it does help to slow the rapid beat of my heart in my chest.

“You monkeys ready to go home and snuggle?”

“Is Waken coming too?” Hayden asks.

“No. Not today. It’s just going to be me and my girls.” I smile at them.

“Waken is a girl too, Daddy,” Harlow reminds me.

I smile at her. “I know she is, but I need some daddy-daughter time. Just the three of us.”

“Okay,” they easily agree.

Dad helps me carry them out to my truck and get them into their car seats.

“Here.” Mom hands me their backpacks. “It’s been about two hours since they were sick, and they’ve both had some Pedialyte. I put the leftover bottle in Hayden’s backpack.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Dad.” I give him a nod.

“You call us if you need us,” Mom insists.

“I will. Thank you.”

We manage to make it home without incident. The girls insist that they can walk on their own, so I hover behind them as we make our way into the house. “Bed or couch?” I ask them. They were both almost asleep in the truck.

“Couch,” they both reply.

“Get settled, and I’ll grab your blankets.” They both have these soft blankets they like to sleep with. My mom bought the girls them for Christmas a couple of years ago, and they’ve slept with them ever since.

“Here we go,” I say, handing them their blankets. They’ve already got the television turned to cartoons, and I smile. “I’m going to go grab a couple of bowls. I’ll be right back.”

In the kitchen, I grab two large plastic bowls that I bought after their last stomach bug. I realized getting them to the trash can that’s next to the couch was harder than it sounds. So, bowls it is, ones that can sit right next to them on the couch.

“Daddy!” I hear my name called, but by the time I’m back in the living room, Hayden has already gotten sick all over everything. And Harlow, well, she’s midgag, but I don’t make it to her with the bowl in time.

I fight back my own gag reflex as I fold the mess into their blankets and usher them to the bathroom.

I manage to get them both bathed and start a load of laundry without another incident. Once I have them dressed in pajamas, they settle into their beds, exhausted.

“How about Daddy reads you a story?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” they say softly. My girls are never quiet and soft about anything. That’s a clear indication they’re not feeling well.

Just as I start to read, my phone rings in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see Laken’s name. I debate on not answering, but I don’t want her showing up and getting sick. “Hey, babe.”

“How are they? How are you?” she rushes to ask.

“They’re doing okay. Their tummies are still hurting.”

“Is that Waken?” Hayden asks.

“It’s Laken,” I tell her.

“We want to tell her, Daddy.”

“Hold on. The girls want to talk to you.” I switch the call to speaker. “Laken?”

“I’m here.”

“Waken, we’s sick,” Hayden announces.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry you don’t feel good. I know that your daddy is taking good care of you.”

“He is. Hims gave us a baf after we puked,” Harlow tells her.

“Gray?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No. We’re good. I promise.”

“Well, if that changes, you know how to reach me. You need me to bring some soup or Pedialyte or medicine, or anything?” she asks.

“No, I stay stocked up just in case.” It’s something I’ve learned as a single dad, always be prepared. I don’t have a partner to run to grab those things while I stay home with the girls or vice versa. I need to be prepared for anything. I learned that pretty fast.

“Okay. Well, you don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”

“Thank you, Laken.”

“Girls?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

I swallow hard at the sound of her telling my daughters that she loves them. To my knowledge, this is the first time.

“Wove you, Waken,” they reply.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” I tell her, taking the call off speaker.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” I end the call, pushing my cell back into my pocket. “Right, now it’s story time.”

I read them one of their favorite princess books, and by the time I’m finished, their eyes are drooping. I kiss them each on the forehead and turn off the light.

“Daddy?” I turn to see Hayden sitting up in bed. She looks over at Harlow, and she does the same. That weird twin thing that they do is on full display.

“Are you going to be sick?” I ask.

“No. But can Waken be our mommy?”

“Pwease, Daddy?” Harlow adds.

All the breath leaves my lungs, and my legs threaten to give out on me. I have to hold onto the door frame to keep from falling to the floor. I take a few deep breaths before I can compose myself to speak. “You have a mommy. She’s in heaven.” The words feel like sandpaper coming out of my mouth. It was never supposed to be like this. Holly was supposed to be here with me, raising our daughters.

“We know we have an angel mommy, but we want a mommy here too,” Hayden explains.

“We pick Waken,” Harlow informs me.

The struggle to pull air into my lungs is real—flashes of that night, the phone call, and then the accident today. I can’t distinguish the two. I wasn’t on the scene of Holly’s accident, but I’m a firefighter, so it’s not hard to imagine after seeing the car. The car that looked just like the one today. Same make, same color. I squeeze my eyes closed to get control of my emotions.

“Can Waken be our here mommy, Daddy?” Harlow asks.

I focus on deep, even breaths. I can’t lose my shit in front of my daughters. I just can’t. Slowly exhaling, I open my eyes. “Your mommy is in heaven with the angels. Now, it’s time for you both to get some sleep.”

“But—” Hayden starts.

“Enough,” I snap. “Please, it’s been a long day, and you’re not feeling well. Daddy’s really tired too. We can talk about this when you’re feeling better.” Not that I want to talk about it at all, but it will buy me some time to wrap my head around the conversation I’m not ready to have.

“I-I love you both,” I manage to push out the words. They nod, and I can see the hurt in their eyes. I never snap at them like that. “I’m sorry, girls. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I love you both so much.”

“Love you, Daddy,” they say in harmony, the sadness lifting from their eyes with my apology.

With that, I walk out of their room and into mine. I know I have to switch out the laundry and inspect the living room for any spots I might have missed, but I need a damn minute. Plopping down on the bed, I let my arm cover my eyes.

“What have I done?” I whisper. “Holly, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never wanted to replace you.” My voice cracks, as does my heart.

I love Laken. My girls love her, and she loves us, but tonight— I didn’t think about this happening. Never once did I consider the girls asking for Laken to be their new mom. I don’t know how to handle this. The guilt is heavy on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I want to ignore it, but I know if it’s my mom, she’ll show up here, and I don’t want to see her.

I don’t want to see anyone.

Fishing it out of my pocket, I see Laken’s name on the screen. A glutton for punishment, I swipe to read her message.

Laken:Call me when you can talk. I miss you.

Laken:My offer to help stands. Any hour any time.

Me:We’re good. The girls are sleeping.

My phone rings, and like the fool that I am, I answer. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Anything I can do?”

“No.”

“How are the girls?”

“Sleeping.”

“Good.”

“Hey, listen, I’m going to go. I need to clean up the mess from the latest puking event and swap out the laundry, and I’m going to try and sleep while they are sleeping.”

“Good plan. I’m here if you need me. Don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” I say, ending the call. I hate that I was short with her, but my mind and my emotions are all over the place. My mind swirls with the events of my past, of the day, and the request of my daughters. I can’t deal with any of it.

Climbing off the bed, I make my way to the living room, and luckily there’s no mess. The blankets must have caught it all. I lock the door, and turn off the lights, and take the bowls to the girls’ room, placing them on the beds next to them.

I watch them sleep for a few more minutes before going back to my room. I can’t tell you how long I lie awake unable to shut it all off. I eventually drift off to sleep only to be woken by a nightmare.