Page 35 of When to Call a Blitz

Every single time I see anything that reminds me of McKenna, all I can think about is the loss of her. What could have been, and what I didn’t do. What I failed to do.

Because I failed to protect her. I don’t care what the doctors or any professional I spoke to told me. It didn’t matter what her parents said to comfort me. Nothing mattered. I could have done something. I should have had the answers.

And I didn’t.

Every single time I see a photo of her I think of how Juniper is being raised without a mom, and how one day I’m going to have to answer the hard questions. How one day I’m going to have to have a serious conversation with her about how and why her mom was taken from us.

Juniper knows some things. She knows that her mother died when she was young. But she doesn’t know how, and while she knows a little about her, she has told me she’s not quite ready to know more.

One day, we said, we’d have a conversation about her. I’d tell her everything. I’d show her everything.

Juniper also knows that the box is there, sitting right in the family room where she’s free to look through it at her heart’sdesire. Anyone is, including me. While we don’t use the family room a ton, I wanted the box to be out in the open, as if her mom is spending time with us. I’m not a hugely religious man, and I’m not quite sure what happens when we pass away, but if there’s any chance that she’s watching over us, I think having a box of everything that reminds us of her right in the heart of our home is the best place for it. Not underneath a bed to be forgotten, or in the back of some closet. I want to know she’s there.

In reality, I wasn’t ready for my wife to die. I wasn’t ready to be a single dad. I feel like I’m still not ready to be a single dad, if I’m being honest.

Juniper is sulking at the dinner table, upset that Heidi couldn’t stay for it. “I thought she was having dinner with us every night,” she pouts, pushing her vegetables around her plate.

“She can’t eat with useverynight,” I tell her. Although I extended the invitation, it would be unreasonable to think that she would stay as early as she gets here until as late as she has every single day.

“But it’s Friday, and we talked about watching a movie,” she says, a scowl on her little face.

“Oh you were, were you?”

She nods, aggressively crossing her arms and throwing herself back against the chair. “We were. I made her promise, and she broke the promise.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers.

“I told her that she needed to go home and get some stuff done for her. She’s been really stressed lately,” I lie, hoping it would make her drop it. The last thing I want is for her to be upset with Heidi.

“Sure,” she scoffs.

“Look,” I tell her. “If you eat your vegetables, maybe you can go hang out with Elara, how about that?”

Her ears perk up at this and she shoots me a side eye. “Maybe.”

I whip out my phone, sending Briar a text. I know Leo is probably distracted right now with video games, but even if he isn’t, he’s infamously terrible at answering his phone.

Once I get the okay, I let Juniper know to go pack an overnight bag.

I need some time along tonight.

I’m in the garage, music blaring, when everything really sets in and I start to think about what Heidi saw.

What did she think about the box? Was she upset?

Why did I even care if she was upset? She had no right to be.

I don’t know how to feel about the situation, but the hurt cuts deep.

I’m just tightening a valve when the garage door opens, and I jump.

19

HEIDI

The first thing that hits me is the smell of gas, oil, and self-loathing that overwhelms me the second I open the door to the garage. The other thing is the music assaulting my eardrums.

Emmett looks up from under the hood of the car, an eyebrow cocked as he stands, his biceps in his short sleeve shirt a little too distracting for my taste.

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