Every item strewn across his ugly sofa was another reminder that he had absolutely no idea what a girl her age would need.
He racked his brain trying to think of what he’d required when he was that age. Clothes, food—lots of food—a skateboard, music, video games, friends.
“I guess we should probably get you registered for school,” he said, and this time he was positive that it was panic that flashed across her face. “What grade are you in?”
“I’m really tired.” She shoved the new clothes—the ones he would have to eventually reimburse someone for—onto one cushion at the end of the sofa and plopped down beside them. “Can I take a nap?”
His eyes narrowed at her evasive maneuver to throw him off topic. Although, back when he was that age, he tried to avoid any discussions involving school, as well.
“Yeah. Um, I don’t really have the extra room set up just yet, but you can sleep on my bed if you want. Or right here, I guess. Make yourself at home.” He knew the platitude sounded forced, but he truly hoped that he could make Trina feel welcome. He just didn’t quite know how to do it. “Maybe when you wake up, we can go to the grocery store or something?”
“Whatever,” she replied with a yawn before curling into a ball and using the green puffy jacket as a pillow.
It was only ten in the morning and there were still a million questions Ethan wanted to ask her. But she looked depleted and a little lost and, frankly, he didn’t even know where to begin. As she dozed on the sofa, Ethan opened one of his kitchen cupboards and took stock of the bare shelves. He debated whether or not he should go to Duncan’s Market while his daughter was asleep, but she’d already pulled one vanishing act today. He didn’t want to provide her with an opportunity to pull another.
Daughter. There was that word again, although it was coming to his mind with much more frequency considering the fact he still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced Trina was his. He used the internet search engine on his smartphone and typed in the letters “DNA,” but a wave of guilt crashed into him before he could add the word “test.” It felt wrong to even think about blood tests and genetic proof while she was right there in the room, peacefully sleeping after what she’d been through this morning. It wasn’t like he would get any answers today, anyway. Even if he did, would it change the fact that her mother had already abandoned her and she had nowhere else to go?
He shoved the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and went into the second bedroom to stare at the dozen or so cardboard boxes piled everywhere. The framed picture on his mantel had been a gift from Luke and Carmen when Ethan had moved to town. The sad-looking silk plant beside it was small enough to fit in his rucksack and served as a reminder that no matter where he went, his old man was always with him.
These boxes held the remaining contents of his life, but he couldn’t exactly remember what he’d placed in them before leaving it all in storage. He rolled up his sleeves then hefted one onto his shoulder. He didn’t bother opening any of them as he set to work transferring each box to his own bedroom. Whatever was in them obviously wasn’t something he’d needed in the past six months. Or even longer, considering he’d likely packed them right after that last deployment that had ended in disaster and resulted in his best friend flying home in a flag-draped casket.
He honestly wasn’t sure what he needed anymore. All he knew was what he didn’t need—and that was to have someone else depending on him.
Because the last time he’d been responsible for another person, they’d ended up dying under his watch.
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