I was hit by a truck.” Her words were a little hoarse from the breathing tube she’d had down her throat that first day, but Bree could still make them out. “Oh, wait. I really was.”
Emma’s lips curved and her brown eyes twinkled, and Bree blinked back another spurt of tears. Tears of relief and admiration. It was just like Emma, free-spirited, indomitable Emma, to be able to joke in spite of all the pain and misery she was having to endure.
“Yeah.” Bree slowly lowered herself to perch on the side of the bed, making sure she didn’t jar Emma. “But you, Iron Woman, made it through. And so did your little Iron Boy. He’s doing great.”
“Sean told me. That you’re helping, too.” Emma’s hand, purple and black with bruises, slowly reached to cover Bree’s. “Thank you. I know you have packing and other stuff to do, getting ready for your competition and new job. Plus you’re not a baby person, and all that with having to see Sean, too...well... I know that’s got to be hard.”
“He’s such a cutie. Will, I mean.” Needed to be clear on that, since she was pretty sure she’d said those same words to Emma about her brother at some time in the past. “I’m more than happy to be taking care of him.”
“The NICU nurse brought him in a few times while he was still in the hospital. I don’t remember it all that well, you know? I’m so anxious to see him again.”
“I’ll figure out how to get him here for a visit, okay?” Bree patted her hand. “How’s the pain? Are you getting enough relief, or should I ask your doctor to adjust the meds?”
“The meds are pretty good, but I’m not going to lie. Everything hurts, especially when I breathe. Ribs are killing me.” The brown eyes meeting hers were deeply serious now. “Actually, no. Not killing me. I’m still alive, and so grateful for that. If you hadn’t seen that truck barreling toward us and swerved when you did, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here at all. Saying thanks for all you did for me after the accident and at the hospital, and now for Will, isn’t near enough and I can never repay you for it. But I hope you know how much I appreciate everything.”
“No repayments or appreciation necessary, and you know it.” Emma’s words loosened the bands of guilt Bree hadn’t even realized had wound painfully tight ever since the accident. She wished she could give her friend a hug as overwhelming gratitude filled her own chest that they both were still here, but hugs would have to wait for a while. “I’m finishing my shift, then heading to Sean’s to take my babysitting shift. I’ll check on you when—”
“Knock-knock.”
Heart jolting in her chest, Bree swung around, beyond surprised to hear Sean’s voice. Also surprised to see Will tucked into his arm, though she shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t as though he’d leave the child alone, or get another sitter without telling her.
She let herself take in the sight of him, tall and a little disheveled, still sporting yesterday’s five o’clock shadow that had darkened through today. Apparently taking care of Will and shaving couldn’t happen at the same time, and she had to smile a little, remembering their struggles.
His lips curved, too, as his eyes met hers, lingered, then moved to his sister as he walked toward the bed. Bree stood to step aside and give him space. Or herself space, if she was honest, because she wanted to reach for him and hold him and kiss the tension from his face. Maybe someone who didn’t know him would think his wide smile was carefree and happy, but the strain around his eyes and lips was obvious to Bree.
“How’s my favorite sister?” He crouched down, holding Will at bed height. “I brought you a get-well present.”
“Oh, Sean.” Emma’s eyes lit as she lifted her hand to touch Will’s tiny socked foot. A foot Bree knew had been none too easy to cover, and she inwardly chuckled at Sean’s comparing dressing the boy to putting socks on a clam. “I was so drugged up last time, I hardly remember holding him. He’s...he’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah, he is. Just like his mom.”
“Look at his cute little clothes!” Emma’s hand gently, tenderly, ran over every inch of her son’s small body, lingering on his soft head. “Did you pick them out?”
Sean’s gaze slid to Bree’s, and the secret grins they shared warmed her chest more than they should have. “Honestly? No. I had a baby store bring a bunch of stuff, including his clothes. Bree loves dressing him, don’t you, Bree?”
“Love it. Just like playing with dolls when I was little.”
“You’re not fooling me,” Emma said, grinning, too. “I can tell from both your faces it must not be easy, which means it’s going to be even trickier for me, having only one arm for a while. Besides—” she turned her attention to Bree “—you told me the only dolls you played with as a little girl were mermaid dolls, and they were always surfing and rescuing swimmers.”
“Did I tell you that?” Bree had to laugh. “I don’t remember, but I do remember that my dad didn’t want me playing with dolls. Had me in tennis and surf lessons and other sports from the time I was six, with all kinds of academic tutors to help me catch up at school. I worked pretty hard for his approval, but I didn’t get it very often. Probably why he left when I was ten. I never measured up to the daughter he wanted me to be.”
Sean and Emma both turned shocked eyes to her, then seemed to study her for a long, arrested moment. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering why in the world that stupid confession and comment about her childhood and her father had fallen out of her mouth. It wasn’t as though she thought about it anymore. It was ancient history.
“I can’t believe there was a single thing about you that didn’t measure up to your dad’s expectations. But if it’s true?” Sean’s eyes got a little hard. “Pardon me for saying it, but your dad’s an idiot.”
“Yes. An idiot,” Emma agreed.
Bree’s discomfort eased, and so did the tightness that had formed in her chest at the memories. “Thanks. If I win another competition, I might hear from him, and I’ll pass on your opinions then.”
Sean’s brown gaze stayed mostly on Bree as he tucked his nephew into the crook of Emma’s arm so she could hold him close. He stood and took the two steps necessary to reach Bree, then one more that brought him within breathless inches. His finger tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before his warm palm cupped her cheek.
“You never talked about your dad much, in all the time we were together. Just complained about your mom, sometimes. Why?”
“Because he’s not a part of my life, really, other than a text now and then, and the occasional phone call. Hasn’t been for years.”
“Sure about that? Just because he wasn’t around doesn’t mean he wasn’t still there in a different way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Okay, she did, but what was the point of talking about it?
“I’m finally understanding your extreme type A competitiveness.”
“My competitiveness doesn’t have anything to do with anything, other than I like to win.”
“Everybody likes to win. You like to win more than most. Wanting to show your dad he was wrong.”
She
