A few showed their family before, when there had been three adults instead of one. Lucas sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry.” “You always say that.” “I know.” “I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just wanted her to know you’re sad.” Lucas felt something crack in his chest. “I know, sweetheart, and you’re right. I am sad sometimes. But that’s not your job to fix.
” “Then whose job is it?” He didn’t have an answer for that. Downstairs he could hear Amelia moving around, talking softly to Mason. The baby’s crying had stopped. “Is she staying?” Emma asked, still not looking at him. “For a week.” “Maybe.” “I like her.” “You just met her.” “So?” “I still like her.
She made real eggs and she didn’t get mad when I asked if she was a princess.” Emma finally rolled over, looking up at him with those dark, serious eyes. “And she thinks you’re doing good. I heard her say it.” “You were eavesdropping.” “You were talking loud.” She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Daddy, can I ask you something?” “Always.
” “Are we going to lose the house?” Lucas felt the air leave his lungs. “What?” “I heard you on the phone last week. You said we might have to move.” “Emma are we?” He looked at his daughter, 6 years old and already carrying weight she shouldn’t have to carry, just like her father. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.
“Maybe. But I’m doing everything I can to make sure we don’t.” “Is that why you’re letting her stay?” “Because she has money?” “No. I’m letting her stay because she asked for help and we have a spare room.” He pulled Emma into a hug, felt her small body relax against him. “But yeah, sweetheart, the money will help, too.
” “I hope she stays longer than a week.” “We’ll see.” They went downstairs together. Amelia was in the living room, Mason propped on her lap, singing something soft and nonsensical while the baby grabbed at her hair. She’d changed clothes, jeans and a plain sweater that looked expensive but not showy. More human somehow.
“He likes you,” Emma observed. “Most babies do. I don’t talk down to them.” “What does that mean?” “It means I treat them like people, not pets.” Amelia shifted Mason to her other arm. “Your dad said you have school today.” Emma’s face fell. “Oh, yeah.” “You don’t like school?” “It’s okay, just boring.” “What are you studying?” “Reading and math and science.
But the science is just coloring pictures of butterflies.” Amelia raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like science.” “That’s what I said.” Emma perked up. “Real science is experiments and testing and figuring out how things work. But Mrs. Patterson says we’re too young for that.” “Mrs.
Patterson sounds like she’s underestimating you.” “She underestimates everybody.” Lucas cleared his throat. “Emma, go get ready. Bus comes in 20 minutes.” His daughter trudged upstairs, dragging her feet dramatically. When she was gone, Lucas turned to Amelia. “You didn’t have to change her diaper.” “I didn’t.
I let him go commando while we sang songs. He seemed fine with it.” “That’s Wait, really?” “No, I changed him. There are clean diapers in the nursery and I’m not an idiot.” She stood, transferred Mason to Lucas. “But thank you for assuming I’d let your son sit in his own filth.” “I wasn’t “You were.” She headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to start a grocery list.
Anything specific you need?” “Amelia, you don’t have to I know I don’t have to. I want to. There’s a difference.” She paused in the doorway. “Unless you’d prefer I sit in the guest room and stay out of your way.” Lucas looked down at Mason, who was chewing contentedly on his own fist. The baby looked happy, fed, clean.
When was the last time Lucas had managed all three before noon? “Milk,” he said quietly. “We need milk and diapers and probably everything else.” Amelia nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Lucas stood in the living room, holding his son, listening to the sounds of someone else moving through his house like they belonged there.
It felt wrong. It also felt like the first deep breath he’d taken in months. Mop. The day passed in a blur. Emma caught the bus. Lucas took Mason outside for the morning rounds, feeding chickens, checking fences, trying to pretend the farm wasn’t circling the drain. Amelia disappeared into town with a list in his truck, which she’d asked to borrow with the kind of casual confidence that made him think she’d never been told no in her life.
She came back 3 hours later with enough groceries to fill the pantry twice over. How much did you spend? Lucas demanded, staring at the bags covering every surface in the kitchen. Does it matter? Yes, it matters. I bought food, necessary food. You’re welcome. I don’t need charity. This isn’t charity, Lucas.
This is rent and self-preservation. I’m staying here, too. Remember? I’d like to eat more than stale bread and wishful thinking. She started unpacking, moving through his kitchen like she’d lived there for years instead of hours. Lucas wanted to argue, but Mason was fussing and the chicken still needed water and the leak in the barn roof wasn’t going to fix itself.
We need to talk about boundaries, he said instead. Fine. You want to set boundaries, set them. You can’t just come in here and take over. I’m not taking over. I’m helping. There’s a difference. Is there? Amelia stopped unpacking, looked at him. Yes. Taking over means I don’t give you a choice. Helping means I do. So, here’s your choice.
Let me do this or tell me to stop and I will, but decide because I’m tired of dancing around your pride. Mason’s fussing escalated to crying. Lucas bounced him automatically, his mind spinning. Why do you even care? He asked quietly. About what? About any of this? You’re some rich woman running from her problems.
