Page 11 of Head Over Heels

My heart wrings.

“It’s Liv, baby. It’s Liv.”

Even though I know I’m not who she wants, she shushes. Thank God, because I could feel her sobs in my gut.

“You okay, Katie girl?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“You’re okay now.” I stroke her forehead, and she settles back down. Her hair is wet from tears.

My own mother died when I was seven. I don’t remember her very well. But one thing I remember vividly is that sometimes, when she left me with a babysitter she would come in late to say good night, and I would rise through the layers of sleep to the comforting feel of her cheek against mine and the scent of her shampoo in my nose.

I’m not sure if the sharp grief I feel right now is Katie’s or mine.

“Had a bad dream.”

“I know, Katie girl. It’s okay, it was just a dream. Go back to sleep. I’ll sit with you a minute.” I brush Katie’s hair back.

I hesitate a moment, then lie down beside her and rest my cheek against hers. She smells clean and salty-sweet. Not a baby smell, but a healthy-kid smell.

I wonder if it’s how I smelled to my mother.

In the first foster home I lived in, the mom used to sit up with me when I woke from nightmares, stroking my hair or my back, telling me I’d be okay.

She smelled like nutmeg and cinnamon, whereas my real mom had smelled like vanilla. Her hands were big—hefty and reassuring—whereas my own mom’s had tripped lightly. But she was there, and most nights, that was enough.

The first time I woke my second foster mom in the middle of the night, she told mefor Christ’s sake not to be such a baby,it was just a dream.

I never woke my third foster mom up. By then—age ten—I’d learned to do everything I could to be hassle free. The less trouble you caused, the more likely you’d get to stay. So I got up in the middle of the night to comfort the younger kids who woke with nightmares, not expecting anyone to comfort me.

Until Zeke, of course. Zeke comforted me when I had nightmares.

With promises he didn’t keep.

Katie has turned over onto her stomach and is settling down now, hiccupping occasionally. I rub her back, listening to her breathing. Her body warms as she slips toward sleep.

She shudders once and the last bit of tension ebbs away. Her breath sighs out in sleep. I stay with her a few minutes longer, then slowly draw back my hand, willing her not to wake.

I slip out of her room and tiptoe downstairs, where I almost knock Chase over, coming up.

Chapter 5

Chase

“She okay?”

“She’s fine.” Liv’s voice is soft. Gentle, like I might be breakable. “She had a nightmare, but she’s asleep now.”

“Thank you.”

It’s a weird feeling of relief, having someone else take care of Katie, for a few minutes. I know now how Thea felt all along, doing this on her own.

Which, to be honest, only opens the old wound, the part of me that still asks: How could Thea think so little of me that she’d rather raise Katie by herself than include me in their lives? And not only that, but how could I have wanted so much to be with Thea when she hadn’t wanted to be with me?

“Chase? Where’d you go?”

“Sorry—thinking of something.”

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