Damage: A Ghost Squad Novel, page 19
“No, you’re sleeping in. It’s your turn.” Vince didn’t seem too worried. There was his pension, and sometimes he mentioned the private sector, if we need the money.
Cara wasn’t so sure what she thought about that. But Eddie was in the door again, bouncing from foot to foot. It wasn’t just her imagination, he was a little taller. “It’s barbecue time,” he piped, eager and excited. “Papi even let me hold the tongs.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” She followed Vincent. He wouldn’t even let her lift a box, if he could help it.
And Eddie was calling him Dad.
“Man’s gotta learn sometime.” Vincent turned sideways, hefting both bags, to get through the door. “Get the silverware, Eddie. You go wash up, sweetness.”
“Yes, sir.” A laugh surprised her, jolting free, she paused on the wooden step, one hand on the doorjamb, and closed her eyes.
Clink of silverware, excited murmurs, a lovely smell of dinner wafting through the house. It was as far away as possible from a sterile, breathlessly tense mansion, and if Eddie missed his race car bed and his father, he made no sign of it.
Kids are resilient, his therapist said. He’s doing fine.
He still crawled into bed with Cara most nights, wedging himself between her and Vincent as tightly as possible. He clung to her when it was time to go to school, and rarely let go of Vincent’s hand in public. When he mentioned Marquez at all, it was my other dad. And during thunderstorms, he covered his eyes and trembled like a tiny animal in a trap.
“Hey.”
She opened her eyes.
Vincent stood, haloed by warm golden kitchen light, his hand out. “You all right?”
“Just fine,” she said, blinking furiously. “Thinking.”
“You think too long, it’ll get cold. Come on.”
She laid her hand against his. Warm and safe, and sure. If he had nightmares, he kept them to himself, and his touch was always gentle.
Cara took a deep breath, closed her fingers around his, and stepped into the light.
Home at last.
finis
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“LILITH SAINTCROW lives in Vancouver, Washington, with her children, dogs, cat, a library for wayward texts, and assorted other strays.”
Lilith Saintcrow, Damage: A Ghost Squad Novel
