Page 25 of As a Last Resort

She picked up a little ceramic statue of a kitten off the shelf, revealing a perfectly clean circle of wood underneath it.

It made her pause, like she wasn’t expecting anything to be protected against time.

She put it back, covering the treasure she’d found, and made her way to sit on the bed.

“Mom took down everything in the house that reminded her of him—knickknacks, coffee mugs, it all went. She even threw away his recliner—anything that even hinted of his existence was put in a box in the closet or in the trash. But Taylor survived.”

That’s what was missing from the mantel.

Her dad.

I hated that I hadn’t noticed right away.

It felt wrong, like I failed to notice something so important.

I was never in high school with Lexi and Sam at the same time so I didn’t know much of the news around her class.

Even though it was a small town, the age gap proved enough for me to keep a distance from most stuff that was happening in my little sister’s world.

“I didn’t let her touch my room though. He gave me this poster sometime before his diagnosis that year, then he was gone in two months.” Her eyes flicked toward the wall where it still hung, faded but defiant. “I wouldn’t let her take it down.”

“I didn’t realize it happened so fast.” I slipped my hands into my pockets. I couldn’t imagine a world where one season your dad was there, and the next, he was just gone.

“You hear all those horror stories about watching the people you love wither away but that wasn’t him.

” She walked over to a white desk where Polaroids of friends and landscapes were taped up.

Random beaded necklaces draped over the corner of the mirror.

“One day he was here, the next he wasn’t.

” She opened the top drawer, reached to the back, and pulled out an old Polaroid.

She handed it to me. “Lexi took this with that little camera she carried everywhere.”

It was a faded Polaroid of her and a man. Dark eyes, dark hair, tanned skin. She was the spitting image of him.

Her eyes stayed glued on the fuzzy picture. “His eyes smiled like that all the time.”

I leaned over her shoulder at the familiar face staring back at me.

“Yours do that too,” I whispered without a beat. She barely turned her head and held my gaze for a second before turning away. I never really understood that phrase until she said it, but that’s exactly what her eyes did.

I couldn’t just leave. She had spent her entire life dealing with her mom by herself. Lexi had seen this play out a hundred times, and she would know what to do. But Lexi couldn’t be here at the moment. So I decided I would be.

“Hey, so I actually have extra hands on the boat tomorrow, so it’s not like I need a ton of sleep tonight.

I’m going to stay here if you’re cool with that.

You know, in case you need help or something.

I’ll sleep on the couch.” Part of me wanted to make sure I was here in case her mom took a turn south for some reason.

But a bigger part of me just didn’t want her to be alone.

“No, you’re good. Really. She probably won’t move all night. Plus, I really don’t want to sleep in here, it totally freaks me out, so I was going to take the couch.”

“Sleeping with Taylor winking at you doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

“Sadly, my tastes have evolved,” she responded. “And I’m kind of wired at the moment. I wasn’t planning on going to bed anytime soon anyway.”

“Me either. I feel like lying down would be pointless at the moment for either of us.” I really didn’t mind. All I was going to see was her face when I closed my eyes anyway.

“We could stick in a movie?” she suggested. “But I think the only movies we have are my mom’s old chick flicks.”

“Perfect.”

“You sure?” she asked. “You really don’t have to. I’ll be fine by myself.” She looked so scared all of a sudden, like I might back out and change my mind.

“Yeah, I know you would be. But your mom lives right by the marina. I can wake up tomorrow and literally walk on the boat. It’s closer than my house, and all my stuff ’s already on board. That way if she wakes up or you need help with her before she’s able to actually walk herself, I’ll be here.”

“And you’re okay staying in here? You’re sure all this won’t give you nightmares?” she asked, waving her hands in the general direction of “MMMBop” royalty.

“Yeah. Taylor’s actually pretty cute. It’s all the stuffed animals I’m more freaked out about.”

And she cracked a smile—the first real one of the night.

“How do you think they got all those ducks to stay in the water while filming?” She lay back on the couch wrapped in blankets, eating popcorn.

Ducks?

“What? It’s a logistical question. Everyone knows you don’t shoot movies with kids or animals. They’re difficult to work with.”

“That’s what you’re thinking when you watch this scene? Not, how romantic it is that Noah took Allie out on a canoe and is paddling her through, like, a whole other universe?”

“I’m thinking it probably smells really weird and somehow they’re all quiet at the same time.”

She had a point.

“I guess every romance has to suspend real life to some degree,” she continued. “Nothing like that would actually happen. But I still don’t understand how they pulled it off.”

“Okay then, since you’re such a movie romance expert—enlighten me. What would actually happen?”

“First of all, there’s no way they could hear what each other was saying because there would be way too much quacking. When have you ever heard a duck be quiet? Let alone four hundred of them at one time.”

I fought back a smile.

“And look, she’s holding that little loaf of bread,” she went on. “No way she doesn’t get ambushed by all of the ducks once they realize she’s got it. Have you ever fed ducks?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“They’re ruthless. They come to you when you have bread, right? Isn’t that the whole point of feeding ducks? She’d be eaten alive in two seconds. The males can get very aggressive.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a waterfowl expert,” I teased. “But I think there’s just one tiny flaw with your whole duck theory.”

“Try me.” She leaned back like her argument was completely foolproof.

I grinned. “I’m pretty sure they’re swans.”

She blinked, turning to the screen, then back at me.

“Well, most of them are swans… and maybe a few geese. But most of them aren’t ducks. Not, like, duck ducks.”

The realization slowly crept over her face and it was priceless.

I tried my absolute best to just sit and not move but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. I couldn’t catch my breath.

When I glanced over, she had her face buried in the pillow, laughing just as hard.

When she lifted her head, something in her had shifted. The heaviness she’d been carrying from the night—and from her mom—seemed to lift, if only for a brief few seconds.

Sitting there, her face lit up with laughter. She was so radiant, it almost hurt to look away. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so reluctant to tear my eyes from something.