Page 41 of What We Broke

“I don’t want to cause any trouble for you and Leo if he comes back and I’m still asleep,” she says.

I kiss her forehead. “Let that be my problem.”

She sighs but closes her eyes anyway and moves around, finding a comfortable spot.

Content that I’m able to take care of Zara for a few hours, I retreat to the hallway and close the bedroom door. Raine exits the bathroom, dressed in sweats and an oversized t-shirt, her hair cocooned in a towel on the top of her head. “Your mom is sleeping in your room, okay? Try and keep the noise down to a minimum. Better yet,” I add. “Do you want to help me prepare for dinner tonight? Since you and your mom are here, I figured I could make one of your favorites.”

Her nose scrunches up. Raine loves eating the food, but she most definitely hates cooking it.

“I might lie next to Mom and read,” she says thoughtfully. “Make sure she’s okay.”

In any other circumstances it would be my daughter avoiding the kitchen, but this time, I know she’s genuinely concerned, which leaves me with a familiar sense of pride over my daughter’s emotional maturity.

Nodding, I squeeze her shoulder and leave her to it.

When I hear her bedroom door close, I make my way out to the yard and drag my cell out of my pocket. No new notifications.

As usual, it’s silence from Leo.

Groaning in frustration, I throw my phone on the nearby pool lounger and unbutton my shirt, peeling it off me. I toe off my dress shoes and yank my socks off my feet before undoing my pants, dragging the zipper down and shoving them to the ground.

I grab a nearby pair of shorts I must’ve left out to dry, change into them, jog to the pool, and dive in.

My body skates just a little above the bottom for the length of the pool. I somersault under the water and push against the wall, wanting to stay down for as long as I possibly can.

My lungs begin to burn, and still I would rather this feeling than dealing with the unresolved tension in our house right now.

When I can’t take it any longer, I break through the surface and gasp for air.

“Someone would think you’re the one trying to kill yourself under there.”

Leo’s voice startles me, but I take a moment before turning around. Months of well rehearsed self-preservation force me not to show him just how relieved I am he’s back so soon.

I sink underneath the water and turn, popping my head up to face him.

He’s sitting on the edge of the pool, shoes and socks off, pants awkwardly rolled up. My breath hitches and my chest cinches at the sight. He used to do this when it was too cold to join me.

“Zara and Raine are here,” I say, choosing to get any further discomfort out of the way.

“I know, I saw Zara’s car in the driveway.”

“They’re both asleep. Raine mentioned Zara is having a rough time,” I explain. “And I would rather she stay here than be home alone.”

“Jesse Hunt, always the caretaker,” he says sarcastically. I see him wince as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“It’s Ricci-Hunt,” I correct. “We’re married, remember? And someone’s got to take care of you.”

“And you take care of me because we’re married or because I’m an alcoholic?”

“Are you?” I ask, dismissing the way he tries to have a subtle dig. It’s the second or third time he’s avoided answering the hard question, and I refuse to be the one to tell him my version of events and have them be his truth.

If we have any hope of getting through this, I need him to have his own moments of truth and clarity.

They can’t be mine.

Especially not when it comes to his drinking.

“Is she alright?” Leo asks, ignoring the question and making me angry for a different reason.

---