Page 48 of Fielder's Choice

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.”

“I haven’t had a nightmare in so long…”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “You don’t need to worry or feel bad about that.”

“I could’ve woken up Sage,” Olive whimpers.

“So?” I ask honestly. “If you did, I would have just cuddled her back to sleep. But she’s still sleeping soundly.” I pull her in tighter, hoping to bring her some comfort. “Let’s go to the living room. I’ll get you some tea, and you can take a breath. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay…”

Rather than helping her stand from the bed, I scoop her up in my arms, carry her to the sofa, and sit her down before wrapping her up in a blanket.

I keep an eye on her while I’m in the kitchen, letting the electric kettle heat up some water while I grab a packet of green tea. Once that’s ready, I join her in the living room, setting the mug down on the coffee table and taking a seat right next to Olive on the sofa. She immediately rests her head back on my chest.

“Are you okay, Olive?”

“No…” she says softly, shaking her head. “I’m fucked up, Lane. You don’t know nearly everything about me, about what I’ve been through. I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay to not always be put together. You’re not a mess; you’rehuman. And that’s okay.”

“I’m a broken human,” she mutters, and I cup her jaw and tilt her face up toward mine.

“You arenotbroken, Olive. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but you survived it. It didn’t break you because you’restill here. I know that won’t lessen the pain, but I hope you realize how strong you are.”

She looks at me warily. “Do you honestly think that?”

“Yes. You have to be strong to fight your way out of the darkness.”

She sniffles as I wipe some stray tears from her cheek. “Thank you, Lane.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

I softly kiss the top of her head. “Drink your tea, Ballerina, so I can take you to bed. You’re sleeping beside me tonight; I’m not leaving you alone.”

The only response I receive is a soft smile before Olive nuzzles into my chest again.

I’m taking that as acceptance.

We didn’t fall asleep until after three, but the sleep we did get was restful. Sage woke up just after seven—she slept in today—so I’m sure I’ll need a nap later, but that’s okay. Olive was comfortable the rest of the night, and that was my only concern.

She didn’t open up to me about what the nightmare was about, only that it was related to what she’s been through.

The way she was screaming last night tells me that whatever it was was extremely traumatic.

She hasn’t acknowledged it this morning. She’s preoccupying herself by playing with my daughter, and if that helps her feel better, I’m all for it.

She can open up to me about all of it if and when she’s ready.

While those two are busy in the living room, I decide to make breakfast. I figure I can treat Olive after such a rough night.

Lucky for her, chocolate chip pancakes are my specialty.

I sip my mug of black coffee while the griddle heats up, and I watch my daughter and my friend together.

Sage is curled up on Olive’s lap, huddled up under a blanket, while Olive reads Sage one of her favorite storybooks.

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