If It Makes You Happy(70)

“What happened?” I ask Emily.

“One of the yard ghosts scared Rocket,” she says. “When Brittany went to pet him, he freaked out and tried to run. She had the leash, so it dragged her with him.”

My first instinct is to get angry with Rocket. But once the fuel in my veins runs its quick course, I’m sad. I’m sad because Brittany is looking at him like she’s been betrayed.

Brittany sniffles, choking through another outburst of tears. She tries to wipe them with the heel of her hand, but there are rough road marks there too, where she must have caught her fall. I move her hands away and stroke my thumbs over the tears myself.

Michelle—Michelle—takes the leash from Emily’s hand. Rocket scurries behind Michelle’s legs, trailing his belly low to the ground and continuing to whine. Michelle crouches to pet his fur, but the dog only stiffens up more, managing a small warning growl of discomfort.

He’s scared.

And then I realize the small Clifford who was bitten isn’t the same man staring at this dog now.

I know it isn’t Rocket’s fault. It’s Halloween, and any dog would be uneasy around skeletons and ghouls and devils. But I don’t like that my daughter was collateral damage or that he’s taking it out on Michelle too. He’s an animal; expecting rationality from him is ridiculous, but I’m too fueled by irritation. Every extra moment I look at him, the more upset I get.

Brittany squirms in place. She’s overwhelmed with tears. I glance at her knee. The skin is split; the cut is deeper than a Band-Aid can probably handle. I wonder if she’ll need stitches.

I can’t slow down my racing heartbeat.

We need to leave.

I tuck my hands beneath Brittany’s back and knees, then swing her into my arms.

“We’re heading to the ER,” I announce. “Emily, stay here. Tell Carol what’s going on.”

Her worried expression follows my footsteps. “You sure you don’t need—”

“We’ve got to get going, kiddo,” I say. “We’ll be fine.”

“I can help, Dad.”

Brittany’s tears pick up again.

“Em, not right now, okay? I’m sorry.”

Emily’s jaw clenches. Josh rubs a palm over her back, but she furrows her brow, rolling her shoulder to get his hand off her.

“Let me come with you,” she insists.

“I can’t handle two things right now, kiddo.”

She freezes. “Things? I’m a thing?”

My stomach drops. I pinch my eyes shut. “That’s not—”

“Whatever,” she snaps.

Emily tightens her fists, then storms off.

“Emily!” Now I’m reeling, my thoughts spiraling as I consider how to fix everything all at once. But there’s too much, and I have a six-year-old wailing in my arms.

I stop next to Michelle.

I don’t know what to say. I wish I could tell her that everything about tonight was so new to me, that it was the first time in nearly twenty years that I felt alive again.

I wonder if she regrets it. If seeing me here with my little girl in my arms is too much. And if it is, there’s nothing I can do because my girls are my girls and they’re the center of my world.

Is Michelle rethinking this? Did I push too hard?

I don’t have time for those questions. My mind is too crowded with other concerns surrounding my girl.

How quickly can I get to my car?

Will there be traffic getting out of town since it’s Halloween?

How many stitches will Brittany need?

What do I say to Emily?

“I’ll check in on Emily,” Michelle says, as if reading my mind.

I want to hug her.

I want to tell her that she knows me more intimately than anyone has in years.

I want to touch Michelle in any way that will reassure her I meant every word I said outside of Winston’s house. I don’t regret kissing her, and I hate that our night has turned out like this.

But “Thank you” is all I can muster before picking up my walk to a jog to get back to my house and truck.

The last question on my mind makes my ears ring with anxiety.

The question I wish wasn’t going through my mind so soon after pinning Michelle against a wall and disappearing into her lips. A person I wish wasn’t interrupting the heart-pounding thrill I’d experienced from kissing someone else for the first time.

And it’s not because she needs to know.

And it’s not because I need approval.

But it’s because I’m carrying our girl in my arms and I know this phone call won’t be the one she wants to hear on Halloween. Because it’s the last call I want to make. It’s the last question I want to think about right now.

What the hell do I tell Tracy?





CHAPTER 20





Michelle




“Em—”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“Emily,” I sigh.

“Leave me alone!”

Our small crew scrambles through the house behind her—me with Rocket hoisted in my arms, Josh with his crooked puppy-dog tail bouncing by his side, and Carol now rousing from the couch. Her orange bowl of candy drops and empties onto the carpet.