Bonus Kisses - Freya Barker Page 0,15

walking toward the living room. I shove the plates I’m holding in Rafe’s hands, and follow her inside.

Sofie shoots out of bed and bolts around us, into the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“I think I’ll stick around,” Chantal says, after she’s given Nicky her next dose and she’s drifted back to sleep. She had no interest in getting out of bed.

“Okay,” I force out.

“I’m sorry,” she says, putting a hand on my arm. “It could be days yet.”

“Or it could be hours,” I add.

“Yeah. I brought a bag. Is there anywhere for me to put my stuff? Somewhere I can retreat to and write my reports so I’m not in your way?”

“The spare bedroom upstairs. I’ve been sleeping on the couch anyway.”

Once I’ve settled Chantal in upstairs, I head back to the kitchen to find the kids at the table, eating breakfast. Rafe is leaning against the counter watching me.

“You should eat something,” he says softly when I get close.

“She’s staying,” I announce in the same tone of voice, ignoring his words.

“I figured. I’m sorry for earlier. I just…” He sneaks a glance at the kids before his eyes come back to me, “…I needed a minute. I just learned something that shook me.”

I narrow my eyes on his face and notice the pale underneath his tan. He looks shaken.

“She told you,” I conclude.

“About ripped my heart out.”

Chapter Six

Taz

“Is that how people wear their hair in Africa?”

I try not to show my surprise at Sofie’s unsolicited question.

Beyond finding her perched on the edge of the couch that one morning, I haven’t had much interaction with my niece. Sure, she’s spoken to me, mostly monosyllabic answers to mundane day-to-day questions—like what she wants to drink with dinner, or if she has any dirty laundry that needs washing—but little more than that.

“Not necessarily. Historically dreadlocks were worn in many cultures all over the world. I read somewhere, even the Vikings wore their hair in dreads. Every culture has their own reason behind them. For me it was just convenience. In my work, my long hair tended to get in the way, but I wasn’t ready to cut it all off. A friend offered to twist my hair into dreadlocks.” I hide a smile at seeing her interest piqued by my little history lesson. “Grab me the paper towels?”

She does as I ask and I dump the blueberries I’ve been rinsing under the tap on a few sheets on the counter.

“What are you making with those?”

“I’m going to freeze them. Did you know blueberries are your mom’s favorite?” I sneak a glance and catch her nod. “She’s is not very hungry with that medicine she gets. It also makes her mouth really dry. I thought if we froze the berries, she would at least get a taste of her favorite food and the cold would feel good in her mouth.”

Sofie sidles up to me at the counter and helps me spread the berries onto a baking sheet. “I think she’ll like it,” she shares in a soft voice when I slide the tray in the freezer.

“I hope so.”

I clean up the counter and wash my hands at the sink when Sofie speaks again.

“Why is grandma mad at you?”

From the mouths of babes.

My eyes are automatically drawn in the direction of the living room, where I know my parents are holding vigil by Nicky’s bedside. They showed up after their weekly trek to the United Methodist Church in town. When Rafe took Spencer to get some groceries and Chantal headed upstairs to give everyone some space, I opted for the kitchen.

“That’s not an easy question. First of all I think Grandma is upset because your mom is sick and she can’t help her. I think we all feel like that. As to why she’s upset with me: maybe because I haven’t been home in a long time.”

I stifle a relieved sigh when Sofie seems to accept my answer without questioning further. I feel like I’ve just navigated a minefield. Parenting is apparently not for the weak of heart.

Before she has a chance to pelt me with the next difficult question, her dad and brother walk in the back door, loaded down with bags and bags of groceries.

“Did you guys leave anything on the shelves?”

Spencer giggles when I take the two heavy bags he dragged inside from his hands.

“We decided to stock up. Didn’t we, buddy?” Rafe ruffles his son’s hair and darts a grin in my direction. I almost drop the jar of peanut butter