Page 3 of Wake Me Up (New England Bay Sharks #5)
Present Day
I need to get up. I’m a mom, and my kids are depending on me to get my ass out of this bed.
The thought is there. I’m fully aware that I need to stand up, walk downstairs, and tend to my kids, just like I do every day of my life. At least I did before everything changed.
Now, I stay in bed a little longer, and I cry into my dead husband’s pillow, asking God why he’d take away a man with three young kids. I ask what I did in a former life that would make me have to look at their sad faces every single day, over and over, knowing that they miss him so much.
My mom’s downstairs, picking up my slack, just like she has for the past ten days since I got the phone call that changed my life forever. The call telling me that Jamie—the love of my life, my husband, and the father to my three kids—had been in a car accident and was killed on impact.
I keep my cheek against his pillow, tears streaming down my face as my nose runs. You’d think I’d be all out of tears from doing this every night and every morning. Actually, anytime my kids can’t see me, this is what I do … I cry. I cry and I can’t stop.
Images of my kids’ faces during the moment when I ruined their lives forever flash through my mind.
I wanted to be the one to tell them. I thought, It has to come from me .
But when I said those words—that their daddy had been in a terrible accident and wasn’t coming home—and I watched the light slowly leave their eyes …
I hated myself for being the one to steal it.
They have their entire lives in front of them, and yet they have to live without him.
Cane is seven. He was Jamie’s number one fan, and he would have attached himself to him if he could. He was just like a shadow. He’s gotten really into hockey, and that was something Jamie and he did together. He took him to his practices, and Cane’s been playing goalie lately, loving it.
Cash is only five. He tended to come to me more than Jamie when he needed something, but he thought his father had hung the moon. Jamie was Cash’s hero.
The door squeaks open, and I hardly hear the tiny footsteps, telling me it’s Avy and that she’s made her way past my mom and gotten upstairs. Quickly, I wipe my eyes just before she comes beside the bed.
Tucked under her arm is her blanket, and I smile at her even though every part of me hurts. Her blonde hair is brushed, thanks to my mom. And she’s in a fresh set of clothes for the day.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper. “Want to get in my bed?”
She nods her head, so I lean forward and help pull her up. I bring the comforter over her, and our heads lie on the pillows, just inches apart. She’s only two years old, but her eyes are filled with sadness, and it sends a pain right through my chest.
“We can put the TV on if you want?” I say, trying to cheer her up. “Would that be nice?”
“Okay,” she answers softly, and I smile, sitting up and reaching for the remote on the nightstand.
Settling back in, I pull her against me and kiss the top of her head as I pull up the Disney+ app and put on one of her favorites— Toy Story 4 .
Holding her close to me, I keep my tears inside as best I can.
But after she quietly watches for a few minutes, she says the words that break me all over again. “I want Daddy.”
My heart breaks more as my chest feels like it’s being stabbed and my throat aches from holding in the sobs that I so badly need to let out.
And even though I do my best to keep myself under control, it’s hard.
Because as a mom, all I want to do is take away her pain, and I can’t.
I can’t do anything to make this better. Not for her and not for her brothers.
My daughter—the light of my life—will never have her dad to do all the things that he’s supposed to be here doing.
Because life is so fucking unfair and makes absolutely no sense. And even though I know I need to hide it from my kids, a part of me is dead now. And I don’t think it’ll ever come back to life.