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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

LUKE

D ayna took Sadie to the doctor’s this morning— she has strep throat.

They prescribed her antibiotics and a gave her doctor’s note for school.

For both my girls . I’ve gotten photos throughout the day, Sadie curled up with Trixie, Dayna nestled beside her, like they’ve been side by side their whole lives.

Strep is contagious, but that doesn’t stop Dayna from loving on our girl.

She’s getting all the snuggles and forehead kisses she wants.

Cara dropped off soup around lunch while Sadie was napping.

Being the pseudo aunt that she is, Cara used the time her class was with their music teacher, she picked up Sadie’s prescription and dropped it off.

The perks of living in a small town, everything is just minutes away.

Then an hour later, Nina sent popsicles and a teddy bear.

My brother? He sent a giant bouquet of pink daisies and a set of matching pajamas for her and Trixie–Because of course he did.

I was physically away, but mentally, my mind was there with them all day. It’s the first time I’ve been away on a day like today. Sadie really needed someone, and it wasn’t me. It was Dayna. It is Dayna.

She didn’t just set her up in her room and make sure she’s comfortable.

She laid beside her and held her like she’s always been hers.

She stepped into the role like it was second nature and I know it is.

Being able to explain what it does to a man who’s raising a daughter through grief, is unexplainable.

I’ve stood at the fragile edge of just surviving, day by day, hoping one day, what it would feel like to live again.

From two hours away, in a crowded museum filled with buzzing kids and echoing voices, I watched my family, my girls being together.

I’m so grateful for Sadie’s grandparents, her uncles, my brother, and Cara, who made sure Sadie Girl had all the love she needed and more.

But witnessing Dayna mother my daughter in a way that didn’t feel forced like she needed to prove something, it was raw. It was real. Something pure.

I’m not even sure she knows she’s doing it. That unspoken kind of love that wraps around everything and asks for nothing in return. She just did it. And do I fucking love that for her, I can’t wait to get home to them.

As my last student piles into their parent’s car, I wave them goodbye and pull my phone from my pocket to call Dayna. It’s nearly 6 PM, dinner time and I’m starving.

“Hi, Luke.” She answers softly, the rustle of blankets audible in the background.

“Hi, love, how’s our girl doing?” I open my truck door and toss my backpack onto the passenger seat. Turning on the truck to warm up. Dayna’s voice comes through the speakers as the call transfers to CarPlay.

“She’s napping again. Fell asleep halfway through Beauty and The Beast about an hour ago. Her fever spiked, but it went down, finally.” I know she’s sick but falling asleep through that movie just shows how awful she’s feeling. She never misses a minute of it.

“She’s had a long day–you both have. I’m glad her fever went back down. Have you two had dinner yet? I’m leaving work right now.”

“We haven’t eaten yet, I’m sure she’ll want to eat when she wakes up. ”

“I’ll stop at Sliced and Simmered –grab soup for her, chicken sandwiches for us. How’s that sound?”

“Amazing.” She says as she drags out in three syllables. “I’ll send you our order.” I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Alright, Baby. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” I say as I drive out of the school’s parking lot and head into town.

Sliced and Simmered sits between Swirl and Toppings and Brook’s Barber –like it’s been part of the town forever.

Dayna can never resist their sandwiches, and honestly, I get it.

The minute I walk through the door, my senses are hit with freshly baked bread and the amazing aroma of vegetable soup.

Today’s special is Dayna’s favorite, Buffalo Ranch Chicken Breast on Sourdough with a side of fries and a soda.

I reach for my phone, even though I already know her favorite, just to make sure she hasn’t changed it.

Dayna: Sadie loved the veggie soup earlier. Can you ask for extra carrots? That was her favorite part.

The line moves and I take a step forward.

Dayna: I’ll stick with my favorite and can you ask for extra buffalo sauce on the side for my fries?

Extra carrots. Extra buffalo sauce. Got it.

After ordering our dinner, I took a seat at a table to wait. My mind has been so jumbled with trying to get home, I almost didn’t hear Mrs. Emily sit beside me.

“How’s Sadie feeling? Dayna called this morning. Strep Throat?” Mrs. Emily’s voice filled with concern as she wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, Mrs. Emily. Yeah, she’s doing as well as you can expect.” I reach for my phone to show her the photo of Dayna, Sadie, and Trixie snuggling together.

“Oh isn’t that just lovely! Dayna is such a natural mama when it comes to that little girl.

” She says matter-of-factly. Emotions clog my throat and I smile at Mrs. Emily.

“She really is a natural.” I manage to keep my voice steady as I look up at Mrs. Emily.

Her eyes tell me what I already know. Dayna always doubts herself about motherhood.

It’s nice to hear someone else say it. But her maternal instincts, pulling through, have proven that time and time again.

We started trying again when Dayna was ready but it hasn’t been the outcome we wanted.

If it’s meant to be, we’ll grow our family.

Right now, we’re enjoying our time together.

The time will be right, when it’s our turn.

“Order for Luke!”

My attention turns to the front counter, where a teenage boy is holding the white to-go bag.

Mrs. Emily reaches for my arm as I stand from my chair.

“Give your girls a hug for me and tell Sugar Bear, I missed her face today.” I smile, loving the nickname Sadie received from her since day one at Stonebrook. “I will, thank you, Mrs. Emily.”

I turn to grab our dinner and nearly run into Dean.

He’s standing stiff, a scowl carved deep into his face.

Of course he heard, there’s no way he didn’t.

He steps to the side–just barely–and pauses.

“I know I don’t owe you or Dayna an explanation, but I’ll be moving at the end of the month,” he mutters, voice low but pointed.

“Since my reputation was nearly destroyed–” I step forward, teeth clenched.

“Say one more fucking thing. I dare you.” My heart slams in my chest, hot with adrenaline.

I am not in the mood for his passive-aggressive bullshit.

Dean lifts his hands in mock surrender, the edge of a smirk forming. “Chill, Luke. I’m leaving Stonebrook. Chloe wants to be closer to her mom, and I’m not about to raise my kid from an hour away. I already gave McKenna my two weeks.”

I stare at him, unsure what to say. Part of me wants to call him out. The other part–quiet and reluctant–is surprised. Maybe for once, he’s actually doing something right.

I could feel the heat in my chest, the words I could say–the ones he probably deserves. But I don’t. Not all of them at least not yet.

I nod once. Clearing my throat so he could hear me thoroughly, “Good. I hope–for your kid’s sake–you mean that.” His eyes twitch at that, but I don’t stop there .

“And for what it’s worth,” I say, voice even, “I do hope things work out for you. But don’t confuse me being civil with forgetting everything you’ve said and done.

You don’t get a clean slate just because you’re moving.

” Dean doesn’t respond. Maybe he knows there’s nothing to say.

I pick up the to-go bag and nod again, this time more to myself than to him.

“Take care, Dean.” Then I turn and walk out–the bag clutched in my hand, my head held high, my shoulders steady. For Dayna. For Sadie. For us.

Walking up the front porch steps, the weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying starts to ease off my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I’m not looking over them–waiting for Dean to say something, do something, twist the air in our lives just enough to rattle us.

The porch light is on. I catch a glimpse of Dayna through the front window.

Wearing her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

Dressed in one of my flannel shirts and leggings with her slippers.

She’s picking up the living room, which has books scattered around the ottoman.

Trixie perched up on the sofa, dressed in the matching pajamas and band aid on her forehead.

I can only see Sadie’s hair in a matching messy bun.

I slide the key into the lock and open the door quietly.

Dayna’s whiskey-colored eyes meet mine like a warm pour over ice.

She puts a finger to her lips and points to Sadie, sleeping on the couch.

She crosses the room and wraps her arms around me.

I set the dinner bag on the entry table and pulled her in tighter, letting myself breathe in her strawberry shampoo.

“I’m so glad I’m home,” I murmured.

She tips her head back to kiss me, soft and lingering, her lips brushing mine with a hint of mischief as she nips my bottom lip. “Go shower,” she whispers. “I’ll plate dinner. By the time you’re done, we’ll see if Sadie’s up for a bite.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she says with a playful nudge. “Before it gets cold. ”