Page 35 of Keystrokes and Kittens

“Are you hungry?”

“I shouldn’t be—but I totally am.”

“Great.” He rubbed his hands. “I’ll whip up lunch. Well, I have to take Tibby out first.” He moved to the bedroom. He opened it, and she exited the room with enthusiasm. As always, though, she kept distance.

“Hey, girl.” I managed a weak smile.

She cocked her head.

“I’m good. I swear I’m okay.” Even as I said the words, though, my voice caught.

Soren gave her the signal to sit and then to stay.

As predicted, she plopped onto her butt—but kept her gaze on me.

As he had last night, Soren crouched before me. “We’re going to get through this. It’s okay to hurt.” He stroked Jack’s head. “So much to look forward to. And, as Dr. Malcolm said, they’ll be okay.”

“But—”

He squeezed my thigh. “I get it. We’re both worried about the worst. I think, though, this is one of those times when we have faith.”

“I don’t have faith, Soren. Don’t you see?”

This time, he cocked his head.

I swallowed. “I couldn’t save my family. I couldn’t save Carlos—”

“Hold on a second. What do you mean you couldn’t save your family?”

Jesus. Why does this hurt so much?My chest ached and breathing felt nearly impossible. “My brother—” Another barely repressed sob. “He didn’t die right away. He had internal injuries. If they’d found him sooner, then he might’ve made it. I was alive, and I didn’t get help.”

Soren held my gaze. “You were injured yourself, Sam. From what you said, I think it’s a miracle you survived. Were you even in a position to call for help?”

I bit my lip. “I was unconscious.”

“Okay.” He said the word slowly. “So, you were unconscious. That’s not the same as being able to call for help and not doing it. Look, I can see why you blame yourself. Survivor’s guilt is really powerful. Something very real. You didn’t cause the accident.”He held up his hand. “You said a drunk driver hit your car. So that tells me you didn’t cause the accident. Shit happens. Really, really, really shitty things happen. And some people find solace in their faith.”

“I used to believe. Maybe if I did…maybe if I’d prayed, then Carlos—”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Dr. Malcolm was clear Carlos wasn’t going to make it. Dr. Genner didn’t see anything specifically wrong last week that could be treated, but that doesn’t mean something wasn’t wrong. We saw it, Sam. He wasn’t, what was the word? Thriving. I can’t have you blaming yourself for something you had no control over.” He frowned. “I wish I could say that I understood. I’ve never faced half of what you have, and you’re so damn strong. You need to keep moving forward.” Again, he petted Jack.

He was right, of course. Wallowing in guilt and sorrow wasn’t going to bring back Carlos—but it might cause me to make a mistake with Peaches and Jack. I needed to be vigilant. I needed to take care of them like I’d taken care of Quinta. I tried to smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Go walk Tibby.”

“I’ll be back in a flash and I’ll get that soup and grilled cheese going.”

“With double fudge chocolate ice cream for dessert.” Again, I tried for a smile.

“You bet. Maybe a nap before the next feeding.” He patted the couch. “You can lie down here. Or head up to your bedroom. You can either keep them with you or I can watch over them.”

I grabbed a tissue and started rubbing Jack’s belly.

He peed immediately. Then continued to snooze as I tucked him in beside Peaches.

A yawn overtook me. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Next to them. I called Desiree. She said to take as long as I need.”