“Seat belts,” said Kyle in his doctor voice. “Where to? My treat.”
“Steak sounds good to me,” Gary said, stretching an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and giving her a kiss on the temple.
“You’re a riot, Pop. He just saved your life and now you’re going to stick him for a steak lunch while he’s still paying off medical school?”
Gary pulled his lips to the side, considering this. “Muchas Gracias would be fine.”
“I don’t think I saved his life, Ains.”
“Shut up, Kyle.”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AINSLEY’S INSIDES JUST wouldn’t settle down all through lunch. The men chatted about sports and politics and strange news articles, having one of those circular “Did you hear about that weird thing up in Portland?” conversations where each person keeps trying to one-up the other good-naturedly. She picked at her empanadas, but just couldn’t get much down. She made sure her dad ate, then they went back to the site and got Kyle’s car so he could drive her home after they dropped off her dad.
“You okay, darlin’?” Gary asked as she pulled into his driveway.
“Of course,” she said, giving him a bright smile. “Are you?”
“Yup. All this has happened before.”
“Well, it better not happen again,” she said, twisting the Battlestar Galactica quote as she reached over to give him a hug. “Say hi to Mom for me.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“No, I’m tired. I think I’m just going to let Kyle take me home.”
“Okay, darlin’. Well, thank the doc for me again. Even if he did break my mailbox.”
“Pop,” she sighed. “I told you, it wasn’t him.”
Taking her head in his hands, he kissed her forehead. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” They got out and slammed their doors.
“Don’t worry about cleanup at the site. Ralph texted me. He did it.”
“Okay.” Ainsley hugged him one more time before she walked to where Kyle’s truck waited on the street. “Take care of yourself tonight.”
He held up one hand with the other over his heart, grinning at her.
Kyle got out and opened the door for her again, and she slid inside with a murmured “Thanks.”
She looked out the window as he got back on Highway 22, not really paying attention, watching the trees fly by and the river roar past, even in the waning afternoon sun. He pulled to a stop, and she looked around.
“This isn’t my apartment . . .”
“You just noticed that? Man, you’d be an easy target for a crime.”
Ainsley crossed her arms over her stomach. “If you want to dump my body somewhere, you should drive a lot deeper into the woods. The water’s shallow here.”
Kyle chuckled, then got out of the truck and walked around to her side. He opened her door and held out his hand expectantly. Warily, she put her hand in his and jumped down, finally looking around better.
“We’re at Manfield Park.”
“Yes,” he said quietly, tugging her forward toward the rust-red wooden covered bridge that spanned the fast-moving river. They walked through the aspens that edged the parking lot and down the path to the bridge, which only cyclists and pedestrians were allowed to cross now. It was a nice evening; she was surprised to see the park so empty. Kyle led her onto the bridge, then turned her toward the river and put his arms around her from behind.
“Okay,” he said. “You can let go now.”
“Let go of what?” she asked, afraid she knew the answer.
“I asked you to hold it together for me during your dad’s diabetic emergency. And you did; you did a great job. But now you need to let it out.”
“I’m fine,” she said, squirming uncomfortably. “Can you just take me home?”
Kyle made no motion to leave, still gently pressing her against the railing of the antique bridge with his hips. “Doesn’t the river look beautiful?”
“I guess so.”
“You’re not even looking. Just look at the water for a minute,” he said, moving his hands to her shoulders, running his strong thumbs across them with just the right amount of pressure. “Then we can go.”
“This is silly, really,” she huffed, leaning into the massage. “It’s not like he even went to the hospital . . .”
Uh-oh. She’d said the h word. That word had feelings attached, dragging them along like a ball and chain behind them. She pursed her lips as the tears sprung to her eyes.
“Would you be more upset if he’d gone to the hospital?”
“Of course,” she said, trying to act like she had something in her eye.
“Why?”
“Because last time he . . .” Kyle. Curse him; he’d done this to her. Made her cry in public. Made her relive one of the worst days of her life. She let out a shaky breath, the tears unstoppable now. “Because last time he was in the hospital, they said he might not survive another episode like that. They said his heart is weak.”
“Mmm.” Kyle kept rubbing her shoulders as she recounted that awful day. The text message she’d gotten during her microeconomics class: Come home. Dad collapsed. How she’d never broken as many traffic laws as she did that day. How they’d taken turns staying the night on the lounge-chair-turned-bed in his room, making sure he was okay.
“It’s just that he’s my dad, you know? I grew up thinking my dad was the strongest man in the universe, only to find out . . .”
“He’s just a man?” Kyle turned her gently and wrapped her in his arms.
She nodded, and her sorrow broke like a flood. She pressed her face into his neck to muffle the sound but made no attempt to hug him back, instead curling herself into his chest, letting him stroke her hair, rub her back until her sadness was just a trickle, a running nose, and a hiccup.
He tried to pull back to see her face, but she covered it with both hands.
“No, I’m a mess. Don’t look at me.”
Kyle pulled her hands away, his face serious. “Grief is not ugly, Ainsley.”
“I’m not grieving, I’m just . . . sad.”
“Is there a difference? You miss the dad you used to have, the carefree one who could delay his lunch an hour without consequences. You miss being the daughter instead of the caretaker. You miss baking for him, spoiling him. Sounds like grief to me.”
“Why are you doing this?” Ainsley whispered, looping her arms around Kyle’s neck to pull him tighter to her. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you needed it. And I was worried if I took you to your apartment, you wouldn’t let me inside. I didn’t want you to push me away. You need me now.”
She looked around. “I think this is the bridge we made the T-shirts for.”
“It is,” he confirmed.
“Is it safe to stand here?”
“Yes, their complaint was that it’s not safe for vehicles. I checked.”
“Of course you did.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I can’t take you to a bridge that might be structurally unsound. That’s irresponsible.” He kissed her temple. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”