Page 94 of The Grand Rise

A chuckle slips past her lips, and my face goes slack, my eyes widening. “Scarlet.”

She covers her mouth, trying and failing to hide it. “Sorry.”

I hear Waverley chuckle, too, and snap my gaze down to her.

My mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out.

“You went and found me a new bird because Mingo was dead?” Waverley asks, her shoulders shaking. “That’swhere you’ve been all day?”

I nod, rubbing at my chest as the ache starts to ebb away. “Your uncle Charlie drove me all the way down to Devon to find it.”

She laughs harder.

Scarlet loses all control and snorts.

“What?” I say, a nervous laugh forcing its way out.

Waverley glances at her mum and then gets up, walking to her nook. She reaches in and pulls out a slightly larger cage next to the one at my feet. “Mingo isn’t dead. I was crying because you were gone, and we didn’t know where you were. I thought you left.” She looks at Scarlet. “Mum caught me making a new home for Mingo with her dried flowers last night. She told me I should’ve told her right away after I found him and then took me to get him a new cage early this morning before school.”

I stare at the cage in her hands. “Tell me that cage is empty,” I mutter.

Scarlet continues to laugh, her hand on her stomach.

“It’s definitely not empty, Dad.” Waverley grins.

I scrub at my face, shaking my head. “I thought.”

They both continue to laugh. “I thought he was dead.”

“So, you…” Waverley chuckles. “So you drove all the way to Devon with Uncle Charlie to get another one?” Waverley bumps into Scarlet, both of them struggling for breath.

“It’s not funny,” I mutter, pulling at my hair.

“Oh, Lance,” Scarlet croons, her eyes watering. “You’re very sweet.”

“The way he was pretending, though.” Waverley holds up the new cage. “Look, Mingo is right here.” She barely gets the last word out, setting Scarlet off all over again.

I drop my head back in defeat, listening to their laughter and letting it settle into my bones. My leg throbs, but all I can think about is how we drove for eight hours today to replace a bird that wasn’t dead, and the fact I waited seven years to hear that laugh—her laugh—only to get the both of them like this.

My chest rumbles with my own laughter.

I right my head and take them in, feeling like the luckiest, lying son of a bitch in the world.

It’s a good fucking feeling.

“I took him on a little trip to get a cage,” Waverley repeats, falling back to the bed in hysterics.

I shake my head, bending over as my laugh deepens so much, I can’t stop, just as lost as they are. “Just wait,” I try. “Just wait until you hear how much Charlie paid for it.”

Their laughter goes silent as they lose complete control.

And I know that no matter how badly my body might be screaming at me, no matter how tired or out of pocket I am from travelling all day, the bird doesn’t matter.

None of it matters.

Nothing but them and this moment right here.

It was never about the bird.

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