“How is he?” she asked, facing Bree but not looking away from me.

“He’s fine. They said he can have visitors, but only one at a time and not for very long. Since I’m home now, you can go see him if you want. I don’t think I’ll go back up there until tomorrow. But if you want to go, you should probably hurry before they shut down visiting hours.” Bree’s voice was soft, full of sadness.

“Have you seen him?”

“No.” Bree shook her head adamantly. “I know he looks bad. I don’t want to see him that way. I don’t want to see him with all those tubes coming out of him and hooked up to the machines. They said that he’ll hopefully be in a regular room tomorrow, so I’m waiting on that.”

The blonde nodded, finally turning her full attention to Aubrey. She lightly touched Bree’s shoulders and smiled. “Thank you. I’m going to pick up Mom and then take her. She’s been a nervous wreck, and I think seeing him might calm her some.”

“I feel bad now. I’ve made you two wait this long.”

“Don’t feel bad,” the blonde said, shaking her head. “He’s your dad.”

“He’s yours, too.”

They both embraced each other, holding on for an extra second before letting go. The young woman, who I assumed to be one of her sisters, regarded me once more, and then backed away.

“Ayla is already fed, showered, and in bed. I don’t know if she’s asleep yet.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you for everything,” Bree whispered, sounding on the verge of crying. “If I don’t see you later, I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, the sister got in her car and left.

I felt beyond confused, but didn’t know where to start. I only stood there, waiting for Aubrey to make a move, or at the very least, say something. I didn’t want to break the silence with an interrogation, and couldn’t believe I’d escaped one from her sister.

“Thank you, Axel. It really meant a lot that you were there,” she said, avoiding an explanation of who that was or what was going on.

I grabbed the tips of her fingers and exhaled loudly. “Bree—”

“Would you like to come inside?” she asked, clearing my head of any question I’d thought to ask. “I really don’t want to be alone.”

Unable to speak, I nodded and then followed her inside.

The house was small, but had a very comfortable, lived-in feeling. Pictures of Ayla hung on the walls, along with pieces of colored construction paper drawn by a creative artist donned with stick figures and various shapes. I stood in the entryway, taking everything in. The couch seemed worn, yet well taken care of. A small television sat on top of an antique-looking table with vibrant colored swirls as accents. The coffee table in the middle of the room was dark wood, yet more vibrant colors stood out on the edges and legs, glazed over by a thick coat of shine. I turned around and noticed a small bookcase. It stood at my hip level and was filled with children’s books. It, too, had the same painted designs beneath a polished coat.

“Are these yours?” I asked as I ran my finger over the top of the bookcase.

“What do you mean? I live here…so yeah, they’re mine.”

I lifted my head to look into her eyes. “I mean, did you design these?”

“They were old pieces of furniture I found on the side of the road and I just fixed them up. Whenever I pass by someone’s trash and see a piece by the road, I always stop and grab it. Some need more work than others. Some only need a new coat of paint. And sometimes, like the furniture in Ayla’s room, I end up taking pieces from several different things and turn it into one thing.” Her cheeks flamed red, showing her embarrassment over my awe of her talent.

“These are amazing, Bree. Why don’t you sell them?”

“I do sometimes. If I find something we don’t need, I take it to the flea market and sell it there. But I can’t do it regularly because I can only do it on things people have thrown out. I’m trying to save money so that I can start building my own. I’ve taken these things apart so many times I could make something with my eyes closed.”

I glanced around the room, my gaze surveying the furniture within my line of sight. “What else have you done?” I asked, desperate to see every piece she’d ever created.

She turned and headed down a hallway beyond the living room. I followed, unsure of where we were going, but not really caring. As long as I remained with her, walking further into her house instead of out the front door, I didn’t care if she took me to the bathroom.

But she didn’t take me to a bathroom. She opened the door to a bedroom, peeked inside, slowly closed it back, and then went to a room across the hall. She flipped on the lamp beside the bed, offering the room a soft glow, and then quietly closed the door behind me. There wasn’t much to the room other than a bed with high, painted and glossed posts, and a tall dresser that matched. Aubrey sat on the edge of the bed while I studied the designs, moving farther in to the room, exploring each of the pieces of furniture with my fingertips.

“Is this the guest room?”

When I didn’t hear an answer, I turned back to her, catching her peering up at the ceiling with her hands twisted in her lap. It took me back six years, watching her search for the answers in the air around her.

“What am I missing, Bree?” I asked slowly, almost afraid of the answer.

“This is my room,” she whispered, and lowered her head.

My eyes frantically searched the room, wondering why she’d led me to the room she shared with her husband. But then it hit me. This was not a master suite. There was no bathroom attached, and even more glaringly obvious, there were no signs of any male living there. I stilled, slowly bringing my gaze back to her bed. I knew I had to tread carefully, not wanting to come across as accusatory. “Your husband must be a small guy if you both fit on this bed together.”

She spun the band on her finger before pulling it off and holding it up between us. “I wear this for work, hoping it’ll ward off some of the creeps that go there. I had it made after Ayla was born. Her name is inscribed on the inside.”

“Why…” I had to shake my head and take in a deep breath in order to calm myself down enough to ask her the first question that popped into my mind. “Why did you let me believe that you were married?”

Her hands fell to the mattress as she shrugged, dropping her gaze from mine. “I don’t know. I’ve grown so much without you, Axel. I’ve become a very different person. And I thought that if I pushed you away, kept you out of my life, it would be better for me. I can’t go back to being the defenseless girl you fell in love with. I’ve come too far to go back to being that person. And I don’t know how to be any other way around you. Look at tonight. Look at how defeated I am.”

“That’s because your father was hospitalized after an idiot ran a red light and smashed into him. That has nothing to do with me. For one second, imagine how you would be had I not shown up at the hospital. Had I not been there for you.” I couldn’t take how she refused to meet my eyes, so I moved around the bed, sat on the edge, and faced her.

“I know. Okay? I get it.” Finally, her fierce attitude began to show itself. “But it doesn’t change things. I have a life—a very good life. And from what you’ve said, yours has been shit. I don’t need that in my life, Axel. I have Ayla to think about. It’s not just about me anymore. It’s no longer about what we used to have. It’s about what I have now…and I won’t risk that for anything. For anyone.”

Something in her tone led me to believe this was her closure. This was her way of letting me go. And if that was the case, I wouldn’t leave without complete closure. Without absolute clarity. “What about Ayla’s father. Where is he?”

“He’s never been there.”

“What?” I asked, wide-eyed. “Never? Not even when she was a baby and you were in school? What about financially? Does he at least pay child support?” I had no right to ask those questions, but I hated the thought of Bree doing everything on her own.