He went into the kitchen, and she followed him in. Several of the girls’ drawings were displayed on the refrigerator, hung with magnets. One picture had Junie’s name printed at the top and four people drawn as circles with eyes but no mouths. Each had two lines coming out of the bottom for legs and out of the sides for arms. Above each figure was a name. River had the biggest circle with the longest legs, and he was drawn next to Junie. Then came Rosie and Leah, who was almost as big as River but not quite. Another drawing had Rosie’s name printed above a mass of crayon scribbles. Their names were written around the scribbles with arrows pointing to different parts.
“Isn’t that the sweetest?” his mother said. “I used to hang up your drawings, too, and believe it or not, there was a time that you could only scribble, too. It was nice of you to bring breakfast.” She opened a cabinet and withdrew plates. “They don’t have much. Can you grab two sippy cups?”
He glanced in the cabinet and saw three mismatched plates and, above them, a handful of plastic cups with lids, mugs, and glasses.
“The ones with lids,” his mother said with a teasing grin.
Leah came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel as they were setting plates along the bar. Her eyes were red and puffy, her wet curls trailing down her back. There were bruises down her left arm and shoulder, and she’d replaced the bandage on her forehead. Her lips turned down at the corners in a heartbreaking frown. She looked even younger and more vulnerable than usual. Tank had the urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her, to give her every ounce of strength he had.
Her gaze moved over the drinks, pastries, and doughnuts he’d brought, and then those sad eyes met his, but that scared-rabbit look he’d grown accustomed to had been replaced with one he was more familiar with. It was the vacant stare of a person lost in a world that had once been as clear and familiar as glass and had been broken into jagged shards that would never feel whole again.
Tank reached into the bag he’d put on the counter and pulled out the girls’ lovies, which he’d retrieved from the wreckage last night and had washed for them. Leah’s eyes widened as he closed the distance between them and handed her the bunny and the doll.
Tears slid down her cheeks. “How…?” she asked with a thin voice, as if she were barely breathing.
“The girls needed them.” She didn’t need more details than that. If it had meant flying to the moon to get them, he’d have found a way.
She clutched the lovies to her chest and mouthed, Thank you, then went into the bedroom and closed the door.
God, he wanted to follow her, to sit on the bed with her and the girls, and pull her onto his lap so she wouldn’t feel alone in her grief.
His mother touched his arm. “Are you okay?”
He stared at the bedroom door, imagining Leah looking at her girls and tears streaking her freckled cheeks. “Do you remember that feeling of being unable to breathe after Ash died?”
“Of course, honey.”
His throat thickened. “I’d hold my breath if it meant Leah could breathe.”
“Oh, Benson,” his mother whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder.
He hugged her.
“There are arrangements that need to be made and difficult conversations to be had,” she said softly. “It’s about to get harder for her.”
“I already took care of things. I’ll talk with her. Why don’t you go home and shower, get some rest?”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know, honey. You might be a grown man, but you’ll always be my baby boy, and as your mother, it’s you I need to put ahead of everyone else. I’m afraid this might drag you under.”
“I’m staying. I couldn’t save her brother, but I’ll be damned if I won’t save her and the girls from whatever grief I can.”
“What about work?”
“Gia and Cait are handling the shop for a while.” Gia Galant and Cait Weatherby were two of his three trusted employees. They’d worked for him for several years, and they could handle anything that came up. “I’ve got this, Mom. I wouldn’t put myself in a position to help if I was going to fall apart. That would only make things worse for them.”
“I know that here.” She touched her temple. “But it hurts here.” She put her hand over her heart.
He pulled her into his arms. “I love you. Now, grab coffee and a Danish and get outta here and get some rest. Dad’ll be glad to see you.”
“I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You’re a good man.” She kissed his cheek. “Tell Leah I’ll be back with dinner later.” She grabbed breakfast on her way out.
While he waited for Leah to come out of the bedroom, he surveyed the living room. There were toys lined up against the side wall and a few others on the cushions of the love seat beneath the window. A guitar lay on the floor by the couch. He wondered if Leah played. There was a stack of kids’ books on the coffee table, two novels, a tiny pink hairbrush, and a Barbie doll. The girls’ sandals and sneakers were by the door, along with larger ones and a pair of men’s flip-flops and sneakers.
Tank’s gut clenched, and his gaze moved over the pictures on the walls. He crossed the room and peered into the open bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through two windows with white curtains that had scribbles all over them, as if the girls had been given Sharpies and allowed to decorate. Two twin beds had the most interesting, colorful patchwork blankets he’d ever seen. One had pink bows sewn in, and the other had purple bows. Two framed pictures sat on top of a nightstand between the two beds. The closet doors were open, and inside was a dresser and a few hanging dresses and coats. Toys littered the floor along with tiny shoes, rain boots, and a basket of sparkly costumes and whatnot.
He picked up one of the pictures from the nightstand and studied it. Leah looked to be around eight or nine, wild-haired and bright-eyed, and he assumed the grinning toddler was River. They were on the lap of a handsome light-skinned Black man, who was sitting on porch steps. His head was shaved, and his beard and mustache were a shade darker than Leah’s reddish-brown hair. They shared the same full lips, slightly flat nose, and freckles. He had one arm around Leah, the other around River, and the kindest eyes Tank had ever seen.
Tank felt a tug on the back of his jeans and looked down. Rosie was grinning up at him with apple cheeks and a mass of tangled curls, holding the doll he’d retrieved from the wreckage.
“Who you?” she asked in a chirpy little voice.
He crouched to look her in the eyes, and his legs hit the beds. “My name is Tank. I’m a friend of your mommy’s. Where is your mommy?”
“Sleeping.” She cocked her head. “You swimmed.”
His chest constricted. How much of last night did she remember? “That’s right.” He didn’t know what Leah had told her, so he tried to change the subject. He held up the picture. “Who is this?”
She pointed to each person as she said, “Mama. Wiver. Gwampa Leo.” She touched Tank’s nostril piercing, then ran her tiny fingers along the tattoos on his arms. “You dwawed?”
God she was cute. “Something like that. Do you see your grandpa a lot?”
She shook her head and pointed up to the ceiling. “He watchin’ us.”