Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(104)

“Dad,” he said unexpectedly.

“Yes?”

Huh. He didn’t really have anything planned to say. “Uh...I just wanted to say something.”

“Yeah, sure! Go ahead.”

His father was a grandfather now. Despite the trophy wife, despite having a ten-year-old daughter and a new baby on the way, his father was getting old.

“You weren’t that bad of a father,” Connor said, then gave a little laugh at the lame compliment. “You were a good provider. You were hard on me to do well and in some ways, that was a really good thing.”

Pete swallowed. Patted Izzy’s back, same as Connor had done.

“And you’re a really great father to Savannah. I’m sure you’ll be the same with the new baby, too.”

His dad’s mouth wobbled a little. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Connor stood up. “Now give me back my niece,” he said. “I think I hear someone puking over by the green chicken statue, and I bet it’s Gail.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A PACKAGE ARRIVED for Davey three days after the fire. Jess didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the postmark was local. “Davey,” she called. “You got something in the mail, hon.”

He came galumphing down the stairs, sounding as ever like he was falling. It never failed to make her adrenaline spurt in familiar panic. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. Want me to open it for you?”

“I can do it.”

His hands were better. He said they felt tight, but they didn’t hurt anymore. His face burn was a little more severe, so Jess had covered it with antibiotic cream and a four-by-four bandage.

He got the scissors out of the drawer. “Let me do that for you, sweetie,” she said.

“I can do it, Jess.” He sounded a little...patronizing, actually. She tensed as he ran the scissor blade across the tape. Didn’t cut himself.

Inside the box was a blue knit scarf and a card. “It’s from Miranda!” Davey said. His face lit up. “It’s a get-well present!”

Now that was a shock. Jess had always thought the relationship was completely one-sided. “That’s so sweet.”

Davey grabbed the phone and, clutching the box, went into the living room. A second later, Jess heard him say, “Hi, Miranda! It’s me, Davey!”

He had her number?

“Dave, I mean. Dave Dunn. Thanks for the scarf! Blue is my favorite color!”

Until a few seconds ago, red had been his favorite color. Jess smiled.

“It doesn’t hurt much,” Davey was saying. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow. Hey, who’s your favorite Avenger? Mine’s Iron Man.”

Looked like Miranda did talk after all. Or maybe she didn’t need to, since Davey was going a mile a minute.

“Jess, can Miranda come over and watch a movie with us?” he yelled.

“Of course,” she said. “Anytime. As long as it’s okay with her mother.”

Davey relayed the information, barely pausing for breath. “You can come now if you want. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Oh, okay. Sure! Bye!” His face was so happy, bandage or not. Unable to contain his happiness, he ran out of the room and clattered into the backyard with Chico Three, the dog’s happy barks echoing Davey’s laughter.

So maybe Connor knew a little more on the subject of Miranda than Jessica did.

The door opened, and in came Ned. “Dry your tears, Jess, but I’m here for the last of my stuff.”

“The new house has an extra bedroom, just in case you go back to your spendthrift ways.”

“Good to know. When are you moving in?”

“Next weekend.”

“Are you excited?”

“You bet.” She really wasn’t. She was tired, that was what she was.

Davey came galloping into the kitchen again. “I have a girlfriend! Ned! I have a girlfriend!” Davey yelled. Chico Three barked happily and jumped against his beloved. “I have a girlfriend, Ned!”

“Bring it here, my man,” Ned said, fist-bumping him. “You’ll come visit me in my new place, right? It’s really nice. We can hang and chill.”

“Hang and chill! Yeah!”

Davey seemed so happy, he was practically floating.

That night, as Jess was getting ready for bed, she saw Davey standing in front of the bathroom mirror, taking off his bandage. “Let me do that for you, pal,” she said.

“I got it,” he said, carefully peeling the tape away. He looked at the burn, which already seemed better. “Do you think I’ll have a scar?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Connor says chicks love scars. Like his. From Chico One.”

So they’d talked about Chico One during their mysterious cooking classes. And Davey had handled it. No meltdown.

He had a girlfriend. He had an age-appropriate male friend with an apartment. He had a good relationship with their father, and he had a steady job.

And he didn’t need her help to take off a bandage anymore.

Jess knew that while those were all good things, her throat was unbearably tight nonetheless.

* * *

KEITH’S CAR WAS parked in front of the house when Jess got home from work the next day. Since the fire, she’d been letting him visit without supervision, just for small bits of time, a half hour here, fifteen minutes there, before she’d get home or if she had to run an errand.