Page 37 of Your Last First Kiss

I sink to my knees in front of him, letting the padding of my snow pants cushion the fall, as he speaks.

“She forgot to get the baby milk again, and I could hear Lia singing to her in the background.”

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. Dahlia is four years old, and Marigold isn’t even a year yet.

Forcing my feelings down deep into the pit of my stomach, I force a smile I’ve perfected over the years. It’s the one that says everything is fine, even when everything’s really going to shit.

“Okay, buddy. It’s okay. I bought some at the grocery store last time, just in case. I’ll run it over.”

“Why do you do that?” Kai says at my side. I hadn’t realized he was listening.

“Because they’re babies, Kai. And they’re your sisters.”

He turns, but I catch his arm. “We aren’t making any progress out here. We have to wait for it to slow down, and I need you to go inside with your brothers. I’ll have to walk the formula over to your dad’s before the snow is too high to get there. The road won’t get plowed until Miller gets to it, so it’ll take me a little while to get there and back.”

Kai grabs my shovel and stalks to the front door without a word. I grip Landon’s hand and follow them inside. After removing my boots, I hurry to the kitchen, put some dinner into Tupperware for Dahlia, and grab the cans of formula I bought on sale last week.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll call the house phone when I’m walking back from your dad’s.”

Kai is standing at the window with his back to me but nods.

“They’re babies, Kai.”

“I know. But their parents aren’t.”

I can’t argue with him. Aster is twenty-two but acts like she’s fourteen. I head for the front door with a heavy ache in my heart.

“I love the girls, Mom. I just wish they had someone.”

His words cut like razor blades. “They have us, Kai. We’ll do the best we can.”

He turns and walks away, and I let myself out into the storm that feels an awful lot like my life—never-ending blankets of shit.

* * *

A walkthat should take only a few minutes takes me nearly twenty with the snow up to my shins and a thick layer of ice under it. I’m almost to Eddy’s when Miller’s parked truck comes into view. He came from the opposite direction, plowing as he went, so the snow abruptly goes from six inches down to one where his truck cleared a path.

The snow is melting on the hood of his truck, so I know he hasn’t been here long. I move quickly up the steps of the small two-bedroom, ranch-style home. Miller and Eddy may be cousins, but Miller’s patience has been running thin lately. The last thing these girls need right now is to witness them fighting.

I knock, then open the door. Knowing what I do about Eddy, they wouldn’t hear the knock anyway.

This house is even smaller than mine, and it’s made smaller by all the people inside.

Miller is moving about the room that serves as both the family room and the kitchen with a garbage bag, tossing empties into it. He’s cursing at the passed-out form of my ex-husband on the sofa while Aster sits at the table on her phone.

Dillon’s sitting in the corner, holding my ex-husband’s four-year-old on one leg while they feed the baby nestled into the crook of his other arm together.

I can’t drag my eyes away from the scene before me. “Miller?” I croak.

He stands like he just realized I’m there. Everyone stops and looks at me. Miller’s gaze drifts to Dillon on the floor.

“He was with me, Penny. He offered to help out, and I keep a few packets of powdered formula in the truck, so…” He blows out a harsh breath that makes his nostrils flare.

“I know,” I whisper. It’s all a mess. I know. “It’s okay.” Better Dillon sees it now anyway.

Eddy groans on the sofa and rolls over. The movement sends two more beer cans rolling to the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Miller grunts.