Page 100 of Loving at 40

Rosie’s words nearly cause the dam to break. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. Damn dust.

“I don’t remember Daddy very well,” Talia says with a quieter voice. “But I remember him pushing me on the swing at the park.” She pauses a beat. “Do you know how to swing?”

“I sure do, baby girl. Maybe we can even put one in the backyard.” There’s limited space for a swing set here, so I add big backyard with space for a swing set to my list of real estate must-haves.

Talia slowly nods and swipes at her cheek. I’m not certain if it’s acceptance or relief or maybe none of those things. After the day I’ve had, I don’t think I can be trusted to read kids, but I want to be here for these two. I want them to always feel loved by a mother and a father. I want to support them and encourage them and never have them feel whatever Brad Collins felt to drive him toward drugs, cause him trouble, and think shooting someone would solve his problems.

“Alright, my princesses, time for bed.” I tug the blanket tighter over Rosie and lean down to rub my nose to hers like Jenna does. Then I stand and brush a hand over Talia’s head, knowing she isn’t ready for that kind of affection from me, despite the hug earlier.

We’ll get there, though.

I step back from the beds and hit the light switch, submerging the room into darkness minus a night lamp that projects stars on the ceiling.

“I love you, Archer,” Rosie says, and I pause with my hand still on the switch.

My heart thuds. My throat clogs again. “I love you too, baby girl,” I say to her in a croaking voice.

She quickly rolls to her side, satisfied with my return of her words, and my eyes meet Talia’s across the dim room. I’m not expecting her to reciprocate her sister’s feelings. I don’t plan on pushing her for more than she can give. She’s too much like her mother, cautious and wary. I know how I feel, though, and that’s all that matters.

“I love you too, Talia,” I softly call out to her.

Talia nods, taking in the words, before rolling away from me. Eventually, she’ll accept the words coming from me and recognize I mean them. For now, silently showing her my love is enough.

After pulling the door almost closed behind me as the girls like it a sliver open, I press myself against the hallway wall, tipping back my head and blinking at the ceiling.

My thoughts race back to Brad and how lost he looked today. How vulnerable he was under that tough guy act. He was too young to have perfected the shield he needed to resist hurt, and I think back to the kids ignoring him as he walked down the school corridor. The look the social worker gave him, writing him off as trouble while he was in the clutches of something painful, in need of help. He was only a kid, the same age as my nephew Bryce, and I vow right then to do better by my nephews. They might have a crew of Ben’s friends as male mentors, but I plan to be in the mix. I’m calling Anna again in the morning.

With this plan in mind, I press off the wall and head toward the bathroom when I hear a sob and know I have another fragile heart to tend to tonight.

41

[Jenna]

I didn’t have time to fill the tub, so I opted for a shower. I’d been listening to the girls from the hall, although Archer had pushed me in the direction of the bathroom. I heard Rosie say she just wanted a dad, and that’s when I knew I had to walk away. It was either rush to her comfort or succumb to the heartache. The second option won out when I heard Archer’s response. He’d like to be their father.

The tears for my own girls mix with the tears for every school shooting that ever happened. Brad Collins is only a kid—sixteen and with a gun. I shiver at that thought and cover my mouth to stifle the sob. He could have killed Mindy, the social worker, and any number of students, but most importantly to me, he could have killed Archer. I bend forward at the waist, gasping for air. I couldn’t lose Archer like I had Ryan—where someone’s selfish, senseless decision shattered our lives.

Suddenly, I hear the shower curtain slide open, and a fully dressed Archer steps into the tub. He circles my bent body and tugs me upright into him. Pressing me to his clothing-covered chest, he smooths down my soaked hair while he whispers at my ear.

“I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m trained for these things. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

I nod and wrap my arms around his neck, latching onto him as tight as I can. The words register in my head, but I’m still riddled with fear. I’m still so afraid I’ll lose him. He’s told me he isn’t going back to the department, but he’ll never be safe. He feels assured he’s protected, but he’ll never be truly secure.

“What is this?” he whispers, tender and soothing, still stroking the length of my wet hair as I remain pressed against him.

I can’t even put my fears into words. I’m afraid stating them out loud will put them in the universe and bring them to fruition. I shake my head against him, burrowing deeper into his neck.

“Jenna.” He pleads my name in his rough voice and plants his hands firmly on my face, pressing me back so he can look at me. “What are you so worried about?”

“I’m worried I’ll lose you.” I hiccup. “I’ll lose you like him.” Like Ryan.

Archer’s jaw clenches. The mention of Ryan throws a stinger in the moment, but it’s not my deceased husband who is on my mind. It’s the man in my arms, the one I could have lost today.

My hand slips from his shoulder down to his chest, covering the left pec. His heart thuds under the soaked clothing and tight skin, and I close my eyes a second, breathing in time with his heartbeat. Reminding myself he’s still alive.

“I’m not going anywhere. Any. Where.” He jostles my face still cupped by his large capable hands. “I’m here for the girls. I’m here for you—”

“I love you.” My lips seek his.