Locked cabinet.
Pool?
No.
Pets?
One elderly dog named Diesel, too tired to be threatening.
Diesel met Denise and immediately rolled over.
“Dangerous environment.”
Wade looked offended on the dog’s behalf.
The biggest problem was not safety.
It was memory.
Denise entered the second bedroom.
A faint rectangle remained on the wall where Wade had removed a framed photograph.
She noticed.
“Maya’s room?”
Wade froze.
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“It was office.”
Denise did not push.
But she knew.
Lily moved in that evening.
Temporarily.
Seventy-two hours had become six days.
Wade reminded everyone:
Temporary.
Lily arrived carrying one hospital bag, Patches, a backpack, and a cardboard box packed by Aaron’s landlord.
Her home had been a rented townhouse.
Wade could not bring himself to take her there yet.
Marlene arranged for belongings later.
Lily stood in Wade’s hallway.
Diesel approached.
She crouched.
The dog sniffed her.
Then sat on her foot.
Lily smiled for the first time since the accident.
“What’s his name?”
“Diesel.”
“That’s a stupid dog name.”
Wade stared.
“He is standing right there.”
“He doesn’t know.”
Diesel yawned.
Wade pointed.
“See? Hurt.”
Lily scratched behind the dog’s ears.
Her smile disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
“Dad wanted a dog.”
Wade’s chest tightened.
“What stopped him?”
“Our landlord.”
Lily looked toward Wade.
“Can Diesel sleep with me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He snores.”
“So do you.”
Wade stared.
“You’ve known me six days.”
“You snored at the hospital.”
Traitorous room acoustics.
Diesel slept beside Lily that night.
Wade slept in a chair outside her room.
At 2:17 a.m., Lily screamed.
Wade was inside before he consciously woke.
She sat upright.
“Dad!”
Wade stopped.
Her eyes searched the room.
Then reality returned.
Her face folded.
Wade sat on the edge of the bed.
Lily looked at him.
“Make it stop.”
His throat tightened.
“What?”
“Knowing.”
He understood.
He had asked the same impossible thing after Rebecca and Maya died.
Not out loud.
He wished someone had answered honestly.
“I can’t.”
Lily cried harder.
Wade continued.
“But it won’t feel like this every minute forever.”
“How do you know?”
He looked toward the dark window.
“Because I lost people too.”
She wiped her face.
“Your girl?”
Wade stared.
“Aaron told you?”
“He said you had a daughter.”
Wade nodded.
“And wife.”
“Yes.”
“Did they die?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Lily looked down.
“Like Dad.”
“Different accident.”
“Did you make it stop?”
“No.”
“Then you lied.”