Chapter 4: Blood and Belief

“Mom isn’t that kind of woman.” I clenched my fists, looking seriously at Elliot’s face. “Mom really loved Dad. She never forgot you.”

My eyes burned with tears, and I tried to will him to believe me, just this once.

Elliot was stunned for a moment, the mocking smile on his lips deepening. “Did she teach you to say this?”

He tried to sound amused, but I could tell he was shaken. His hands trembled just a bit as he picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.

I shook my head. “No...”

I sniffled, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, hoping he’d see I was telling the truth.

“No one knows what kind of person Anna Rivers is better than I do.” His expression was cold. “Except for Carter Grant, she never truly loved anyone.”

He spat out Carter’s name like it was poison. The air in the room felt heavier suddenly.

My face turned red from holding back.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hoping it would stop the tears from spilling over. I was determined not to cry in front of him again.

I can’t say that Mom was a conqueror, and being with Mr. Grant was just to survive.

My mind raced, trying to think of a way to explain, but nothing seemed right.

Then how can I make Dad believe that Mom really loved him?

I turned the question over and over, the way you worry a loose tooth, wishing for an answer that would fix everything.

With a heavy heart, I lay down in bed.

The sheets smelled like fresh detergent. I curled up in a ball, hugging my knees to my chest, listening to the hum of the heater.

Elliot tucked me in. “I’m right next door. Knock if you need anything, okay?”

He kept his distance, but his voice was a little softer than before. He flicked the light switch, then hesitated in the doorway for a long moment.

“Got it.”

I whispered it into the darkness, not sure if he heard me.

The bandage on his wrist was seeping blood, as if the wound hadn’t healed.

I saw the crimson stain spreading, and my stomach twisted. I wished I could help, but I didn’t know how.

Is Dad hurt?

The question echoed in my mind as I pulled the blanket up to my chin.

I worried about it.

Ten minutes later, I stood at the master bedroom door.

I shuffled in my socks, clutching my stuffed rabbit, then gathered my courage and knocked softly.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Elliot opened the door, his eyes red, his face tense. “What’s wrong?”

He sounded gruff, but I could tell he was tired—bone-tired, like he’d run out of things to say.

“Daddy, can I come in and sleep with you?”

My voice was barely above a whisper, and I hugged my rabbit tighter, hoping he’d say yes.

“No.”

He didn’t move from the doorway, but he didn’t close the door, either.

I pressed my palms together, pleading pitifully. “Please? You know, I’ve been away from Mom since I was little...”

I let the sentence trail off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks himself.

“...Come in.”

He let out a sigh, stepping aside to let me in. The room was dim, lit only by a lamp on the nightstand and the blue glow of the city lights outside.

He made a bed on the floor, letting me sleep alone on the bed.

He tucked the blanket around me, then lay down on the makeshift bed, arms folded behind his head. I listened to the sound of his breathing, steady and reassuring.

To keep me from falling, he even left a small night light on.

The soft yellow glow made shadows dance on the walls. I felt a little safer, just knowing he was close by.

“Daddy, aren’t you going to sleep with me?”

I sat up, looking at him with big, hopeful eyes. My rabbit dangled from my hand.

“A big girl shouldn’t share a bed with her dad.”

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, avoiding my gaze. His voice was gentle but firm.

I sat up on the bed in surprise. “So you admit you’re my daddy now?”

I couldn’t help but grin, even though I knew he’d deny it.

Elliot closed his eyes, refusing to look at me. “All the more reason a strange man shouldn’t.”

He pulled the blanket higher over his shoulders, as if hiding from the world.

I lay back down, disappointed, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a photo frame turned face down on the nightstand.

It was Mom’s photo.

I reached out and touched the corner, feeling a pang of longing.

“Daddy, you miss Mom a lot too, don’t you?”

The question slipped out before I could stop it. The silence stretched between us like a rubber band.

Elliot paused, his tone stiff.

“...No.”

His answer sounded false, brittle as glass. I turned my face to the wall, letting my rabbit soak up the tears I didn’t want him to see.

Really?

Then why, after Mom died, did you also lose all will to live?

I wondered if he’d ever tell me the truth.