Page 58 of 4th Degree

What I really want is to talk to her for a little bit.

But I can’t exactly launch into invasive questions about her family and home life, so for now, both of our attention is focused on the fight on the TV screen.

We’re only pulled away from it when we feel the couch dip with another weight as Brutus climbs up beside us.

Skylar lets out a giggle as he plods toward her. She, too, opens her legs to give him a space to sit, and he takes the offered spot. With a loud grunt, he collapses in her lap, planting his big head on her thigh. Almost immediately, the gym fills with the sound of his snores.

Skylar starts to pet his head. Warmth fills my chest at the sight of them together.

“Is he a cuddly dog?” she asks after a moment.

“Not really,” I answer, reaching around her to scratch between his shoulder blades where I know he likes it. “He reminds me of a grumpy old man for the most part—always wants his space.”

She peeks over her shoulder at me, a smile lighting up her eyes. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

That warrants a pinch to her side. She yelps, the sound causing Brutus to lift his head and blink at us in sleepy confusion.

“Sorry, buddy,” Skylar coos. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Your daddy doesn’t like to hear the truth.”

Another scolding, this time by nipping at her neck. The sound of her giggle soothes me.

“Have you ever had a dog?” I ask curiously, my touch moving from Brutus to Skylar, where I rub lazy circles on her thigh.

She shakes her head. “We couldn’t ever really afford one. Not only that, but we also weren’t sure we could commit to taking care of one. Good days would be fine, but my parents were hospitalized plenty of times, which would’ve left us scrambling to find dog sitters. Even when we were home, the priority was always taking care of Dad, and then Mom. I just… I knew we wouldn’t be able to give a dog the life it deserved.”

The tone of her voice makes me sad. I can’t imagine living the life Skylar’s lived, the pressure on her shoulders.

She’s given me the perfect opening to ask about her family, but I want to be careful. I want to understand her better, but not at the price of making this place and my company anything less than a safe space for her.

“Your dad was sick too?” I decide to ask.

She nods. But when she doesn’t say more, I settle for making myself vulnerable instead.

“I don’t know what it’s like to have a parent get sick like that, but I took care of my mom before she passed,” I explain, my hand caressing up and down her arm. “I moved her in with me when she got older. It was always just me and her when I was growing up, so making her comfortable when her body started shutting down at the end was the least I could do.”

“She raised you by herself?”

I nod against her hair. “I never knew my dad. He left us when I was still young.”

Skylar’s finger traces soothing patterns on the arm that’s wrapped around her. “Your mom must’ve been a strong woman,” she says quietly.

“The strongest.”

“When did she pass away?”

“Three years ago. Right after I stopped fighting. Any time I wonder if I retired too early, I think about how I got to spend time with her and be there to take care of her because of it.” My arm tightens around Skylar. “She would’ve loved you. You might be the only woman I’ve ever met who could match her for strength.”

That makes her go quiet. But sharing that with her must’ve made her comfortable enough to open up to me with the rest of her story, because she starts talking.

“My dad was diagnosed with lung cancer when I was nine,” she says, and I squeeze her leg in a silent show of support. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “They found it early, so the trips to different doctors were always hopeful. He went through the usual radiation, chemo, everything. Nobody seemed surprised when he went into remission. It spread to his brain two years later. That time, nobody sounded positive when they talked about it.”

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the gym are Brutus snoring as she pets him and the faint hum of the TV. I give her the space to take the time she needs, pressing a kiss to her head.

“When he died, it was like my whole world froze. I don’t even remember the sadness; I just remember feeling like I was living in an out-of-body experience. Everything felt surreal, like it was happening to someone else. I went through the motions every day, but that’s all everything felt like.”

She lets out a shaky exhale. “I had been taking care of my little brother since Dad was first diagnosed, because all of Mom’s attention and efforts went to helping Dad. Not in a bad way, and I never resented her for it—they had just had this great love story that seemed to transcend everything else. I didn’t mind taking care of Joey, not if it gave her a little more peace of mind. I was happy to do it. But…when Dad died, it felt like…like I lost her, too. She became a shell of a person. Nothing I did could snap her out of it, and suddenly instead of caring for one other person, I was caring for two. And doing it at thirteen.”

She slumps down in my lap, though I can’t tell which emotion is weighing her down. I’m almost scared to hear what comes next.

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