Page 96 of Soft
I looked down at the mug in my hand.
Grizzly:It's not that cold. And did you put in cameras? That’s super specific, mister.
Daddy:Grizzly. There are no cameras. I know you, baby.
Grizzly:True. Go to practice. I promise I’m okay.
Daddy:I love you. I’ll see you after.
I pressed my lips together. The words still moved me every single time, which I suspected they would continue to do for a very long time. I wasn't sure I would ever be fully prepared for them.
Grizzly:I love you too. Go. Don’t get into more trouble.
Daddy:Trouble with you would be worth it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Grizzly:That’s not even a worry. I’m not leaving this house for any reason.
He sent back a laughing emoji and then he was gone.
I set the phone down, then went to heat up my coffee while avoiding the reality of how right he was.
A knock at my front door about an hour later startled me out of my zombie-like state. I was on the couch with Wells in my lap and a throw blanket around my shoulders. Not quite Little, not quite Big.
I’d told myself I wasn’t spiraling. I would not spiral. I was merely sitting very still and thinking very loudly and contemplating all my life choices up to this day.
Another knock reminded me of what had pulled me out of my own head. I unfolded myself from the couch, careful to place Wells in my seat to keep it warm.
When I opened the door, Paxton's dad was standing on my porch with a paper bag, two steaming cups of coffee, and a sympathetic smile. He had on a black hoodie and some jeans. He looked relaxed in a way that made me want to relax too.
"I figured you'd either be working or staring into the distance.” He lifted the bag and container of coffees. "Either way, I brought provisions."
I blinked at him. "Paxton didn't tell me you were coming."
"Paxton doesn't know I'm here. I've got a black coffee, something with oat milk and a concerning number of pumps of something, and two of whatever those flat pastry things are they had in the case. The woman behind the counter called them something French." His grin went wider. "You gonna let me in?"
I stepped back from the door on autopilot. For as laidback as the man could be, he still had some dominant moments. Must be another thing Paxton picked up from him.
The minute he crossed inside, he set the bag on the kitchen table and headed for my cabinets.
"Sit down," he called out over his shoulder. "You've got that look my son gets when he's pretending he's not tired."
"I’m not tired."
He pushed one of the cups over to me as I dropped into a seat. Then he put a plate down, following it with a pastry. "That one's yours. Paxton might have mentioned how you like your coffee a time or two."
“Thank you.” I wanted to say a heck of a lot more, but I didn’t know where to begin.
He folded himself into the opposite chair and wrapped both hands around his own cup. "So… Rough night."
"The event itself was fine," I replied on autopilot.
He gave me a look that was so similar to Paxton's that I had to glance away briefly.
"The event itself was fine," I tried again, with slightly more honesty behind it. "The end of it was less fine. I imagine you saw."
"I saw the article, yeah." He took a sip of his coffee. "I also know my son, and I know that if he had a problem with how things shook out, he would have said something last night instead of texting me this morning to ask if I'd mind checking in on you since no one else had answered him."
I went still. "He texted… other people… checking…"
