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“Asleep,” I said. “And no. I just saw you.”
She scoffs. “So you ran over?”
“Yes.”
For a second, her cheeks darkened. I wondered if I’d be lucky enough for her to take advantage of me. She could get whatever she wanted out of me, and I’d let her have it.
“Why?”
“You needed something.” I shrugged. “I can’t sit still if you need something.”
Her eyebrows knitted and she looked at her feet for a long time.
When she finally looked back up, she went right for my heart.
“I needed you. Many times. You always stayed away then.”
Her words hit their mark, and I let out a stuttering breath of air. I felt like I’d been punched.
Silence stretched out between us, broken only by the rumbles of thunder.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Her voice was soft. I expected her to be mad at me. In fact, I think I preferred it.
Time had done a number on both of us, and I didn’t know if we could fix this.
“I know how to function on my own.” She stood up straighter. “I don’t need you to solve my problems for me.”
She didn’t give me a second look as she turned and stepped back into the rain.
I was left staring after her, holding an umbrella for a woman who’d moved on.
I didn’t drop it for a long time.
Knees digging into my ribs jolted me out of sleep.
“Ow, what the—”
Above me, brown eyes stared down. Beatrice’s hair was a mess, and it looked like she’d just woken up.
A glance at my phone told me it was early.
“Hi,” I said as I slowly moved her off me. “Good morning.”
“Food. Food.”
“You’re a child of many words this early.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Beatrice huffed and jumped on me again. “All right, all right. I’m getting up.”
As I ran a hand through my hair, I knew I also looked like a mess, and I’d have to deal with that later. Atticus had recently gone by Food ‘n’ Things, which meant I had eggs to make for the girls.
For a moment, I remembered when Mom would make eggs. They’d be spicier than Atticus could tolerate, but I loved them. I wondered if Agnes and Beatrice would like them too.
“Hungry!” Beatrice yelled.
“Sorry. I’m starting now.”
It was better not to rock the boat. I was on thin ice anyway.
I started cooking, thinking of the recipe Alice had left scribbled down on paper. It had burned up with the kitchen, but I’d memorized it.