Page 25 of York

While the whole house was furnished, it was clear York had spent a lot of time on Denny’s bedroom.

The walls were a sweet pastel purple. It matched the rug that dominated the floor. She had a rope swing in a corner, a bookshelf, a mini desk, toy storage, and a bed with a canopy, purple bedding, and a small collection of the various princess dolls lined against the wall.

A little overwhelmed, I stepped back out, letting him have this moment with her.

I saw a door at the end of the hall near her door, pulled it open, and saw a stacked washer and dryer.

That, it seemed, was my breaking point.

I was turning to walk back to the living room so Denny didn’t see me cry when York happened to look over and see me.

I rushed into the bathroom and closed the door but heard York ask Denny to stay in her room for a minute so he could talk to me.

I should have locked the door.

I didn’t want to analyze why I didn’t.

The door opened as I buried my face in my hands.

“Hey,” York said, his voice impossibly soft. “It’s alright,” he said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. When I didn’t shrug him off, he pulled me closer until my head was against his chest. Those giant arms of his went around me tightly, tight enough that I almost felt like he could hold me together as I fell apart.

“I know,” he murmured as I cried into his chest. “You’ve been holding it down all alone for too long.”

My arms slid from my face to wrap around him as his tightened even more around me. And, God, it just felt so good to be held. Because he was right. I had been all alone for so long. I never had anyone to lean on, to do something nice for me, to give me a hug after a hard day.

“Things are gonna get easier now,” he assured me as his hand slid up and down my spine. “I’m gonna do everything I can for her. And you.”

If he was trying to get me to cry harder, it was working.

It had been a long few years. And because our living situations often meant I was never alone, I also never let myself cry. I didn’t want Denali to know how much I was struggling. She was too sensitive; she would get too upset. So I just tamped it down.

All those years of tears were pouring out right then, though. All the frustration, uncertainty, fear, and pain that I’d been keeping down finally overflowed.

And York, a practical stranger, just held me until I ran out of tears.

“That was a long time coming, huh?” he asked, turning away to grab me tissues—which he also supplied when he’d stocked this apartment.

I turned away to blow my nose and nodded.

“The washing machine was what did you in, huh?” he asked, tone light, not harping on the obvious seriousness of the situation.

“Have you ever washed clothes in the tub?” I asked.

“No.”

“It’s a surprising amount of work. My arms are stronger now than ever before. But I’m happy not to do that again.” I sniffled hard. “Thank you for this,” I told him. “Denny is over the moon about that room.”

I just hoped we could stay. For once, there was a real chance. Because unlike in the past, this place in no way tied back to me. No one knew about my connection with York. His name on the lease agreement worked in my favor. So long as I did my work off the books, nothing at all in this state would trace back to me.

Unless I had to put Denny in school.

But that was months away still. And I could opt to homeschool her, so long as I found a way for her to interact with other children.

I wanted her to have the school experience. But at this point in our lives, safety mattered just slightly more.

Anyway, those are problems for another day.

“I don’t need thanks. It’s the least I can do. But I would like to maybe have an adult conversation with you when Denali isn’t—”