I’d excelled at that, organizing things neatly in my mind to ensure that they never leaked into other parts of me.
Yet my mind was not organized.
Before the event, and most certainly after, my mind was muddled. Was any mother in possession of a stable mind, even on her best day?
Although Mabel had finally started to sleep in her crib in her nursery, I could no longer stand her to be even a room away from me. I’d watch the monitor obsessively until my eyes could no longer stay open. Then I’d wake up in a cold sweat, scrambling to her room in order to make sure she was still there, still breathing.
Kane was there during all of this, rubbing my back, murmuring that he’d watch over her so I could get some sleep.
I trusted him with my life, with Mabel’s, but I still couldn’t let go.
I’d begun to bring her into bed with us, aware of the controversy surrounding such things, but I couldn’t sleep, couldbarely breathe without feeling her warm body next to mine, my hand on her chest, feeling it rise and fall.
Kane didn’t protest; he was willing to do anything and everything to get me sleeping. To help. I knew he felt powerless, that he was battling his own demons about the event.
Blame.
He carried a lot of it.
For not being there.
For not killing Brax in the first place.
He needed Mabel next to him just as much as I did.
My doctor prescribed me pills to help with the anxiety. I didn’t take the pills. Not solely because I didn’t think I needed them, but because a warped part of me felt that was letting Brax win.
Mabel still slept in bed with us. I still struggled with working the kitchen at Tides every night. I had the control I craved. Got to work in a space where I was sure, certain. An expert.
Yet all I did was long to get home, wistful over missing her bedtime.
Kane had given me a gift with the restaurant, an incredibly thoughtful one based on who I’d been before. And at face value, it was all I’d ever wanted. My mother had been right: all I yearned for were a few moments to myself. But once I had a kitchen to myself, all I wanted was our living room and its cemetery of toys and diapers.
Then there was the reading I was doing. Upon Fiona’s advice, I had gotten rid of all of the parenting books, but now I was pouring over books on trauma in childhood and how it impacted them as adults.
The first three years of a child’s life was when they set the emotional foundation for their entire personality. Their emotional brain developed. Any trauma during those three years could follow them into adulthood.
Mabel hadn’t technicallyseenanything; I’d been in her line of vision initially. But she’d heard the conversation, and although she likely hadn’t understood the words, I was sure she might have tapped into the overall vibe.
Kane was less worried about her emotional health and more worried about mine. Which I guessed made sense.
“She’s resilient,” he tried to reassure me for the hundredth time. “She’s got an entire life of love ahead of her, a father who will move heaven and earth to ensure that she doesn’t endure any trauma for the rest of her life.”
I pursed my lips. I wanted that too. But my sense of hope seemed to have died with Brax.
“Right now, that’s gonna be easy since I’m never fuckin’ leaving her side again,” he continued, his voice thick with shadows that followed him since that day. “So let’s get you right, Chef.”
“I’m fine,” I said immediately.
He raised a brow. “You watched a man die. You faced the prospect of death yourself…” His fist clenched, and his body shook with rage.
If Kane could find a way to turn back time and beat Brax to death, I knew he would’ve.
He took a visibly deep breath, forcing himself to calm.
“You were moments away from death,” he whispered. “That’s going to affect you. You tell me how to fix it. How to fix you.”
“You can’t,” I sighed. “And I can’t fix how it affected you. We just … get through it. Together.”