Kelly Gay - The Hour of Dust and Ashes

Saying those quiet words out loud gave the whole thing a sense of finality. It felt like a fist squeezed my heart. “The sylphs’ gifts … they allowed me to see him. I held his hand. Pulled him out. He wanted to go, said he wouldn’t come back normal.” I rubbed a hand down my face and let out a loud sigh. “I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

I glanced to the ceiling. Above. Where my kid slept happy and content. My throat thickened. I shook my head. “How am I going to tell her?”

I couldn’t do it. How did I look her in the eye and tell her Dad was gone? A tear slipped out. Rex moved over the cushions and slipped an arm around me, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

My head fell against his shoulder. I turned into him, trying to hold out, but it was a losing battle. The floodgates opened. And I grieved for the loss of my ex-husband. He was gone. He was never coming back.

Rex held me, rubbing my back, kissing the top of my head, and giving me a supportive squeeze every now and again.

By the time I finally sat up, my face was swollen and hot. I couldn’t breathe, my nasal passages were blocked, and my head pounded.

Rex reached over the couch and grabbed a tissue from the box on the sofa table. He handed it over, watching me for a while, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“What?” I finally asked.

“I know you and Em wanted me to stay because Will was still here.” He paused, gazing at the television without focus. “But now … Do you want me to leave?”

A half laugh, half sob escaped. I shook my head. “No. You definitely cannot leave us.”

Frustration tightened his jaw. “Why? Because I look like him? It’s just me now. He’s gone. You have to understand. Em has to understand. I can never be him.”

I glanced down at the ball of tissue in my hands, unwinding it to fold it over and over again until it was a tiny square. I drew in a deep inhale. “I know, Rex. Even when you tried to be him, you couldn’t. Emma will tand. She loves you, you know. Not just because you look like him. She’ll understand …”

His lips thinned. The muscles in his jaw flexed, and he ran a hand down his rugged face. Tension and emotions swirled around him. He scanned the room before settling his attention back on me. “And you?”

My sad grin widened a little. “I’m getting there. But,” I pointed out, “ only in a platonic way.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t have to kick me when I’m down.” But I knew he wasn’t serious. Rex was well aware I’d never have a thing for him, and I was pretty sure he was all bluster and would never have a thing for me either. “Speaking of … what the hell happened to Hank back at the station? I saw the sirens …”

I unwound the square and started working on folding it like the flag. “They came to take him home. Apparently they think he’s a traitor. But he’s not. They got it so wrong.”

“You really like him.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement, but I answered anyway. I was answering Rex when I should’ve answered Hank when he’d asked me in Charbydon. “Yes. I really like him.” Him. Not what he was, but who he was. And now I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get the chance to tell him.

A gleam appeared in Rex’s eyes. “So when are we going into Elysia? We’ll probably be banned for life from Charbydon, might as well make it two for two.”

“ We are not going anywhere.”

“But you are going after him.”

“Of course. I’ll have to talk to the chief, make plans.” And I desperately needed a few hours of sleep if I was going to be any help at all. “When I do go, I’ll need you to stay here with Emma. I won’t know how long it’ll take. And I don’t want to worry about her …” Rex’s blinding grin made me pause. “What are you smiling for?”

“Nothing.” He looked pleased as punch. “Just … you trust me.”

I blinked. “Well, I thought we’d established that a long time ago. Where have you been the last few months? Look, nothing has changed, Rex, except that Will won’t be coming back. I know what you’re made of. You’ve been with us all this time, from the beginning of all this … craziness. I trust you. I know you love my kid.”

Red rose through the scruffy jaw and up over his cheeks. “Blindsided me, that kid,” he joked. “When did that happen?”

I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant even though I wanted to start crying again. “She’s an easy kid to love.” I released a heavy exhale, chuckling as I did. Making light. Trying to hold it together.

“That’s one thing I haven’t done, you know?” Rex parked his elbow on the back of the couch and rested his head on his hand. “In all my years. In all the bodies I’ve been in …” He stared off into nothing, his mood reflective, his voice quiet. “Didn’t get the chance when I was a jinn eith#822;”

“The chance for what?”

“To be a father.”

Time seemed to stand still in that moment. We didn’t speak. Just stared off into space, unable to look at each other.

I cleared my throat and drew in a stabilizing breath. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m not looking to replace Will, not in that way. But I can still be a father figure. A male presence in her life. I’ve done just about everything I’ve ever wanted to and way more than I could’ve imagined. I’m tired. I want to settle down, be part of something, part of a family.” His eyes narrowed. “And you tell anyone I said all this, I’ll go Chuck Norris on your ass so fast, your head will spin.”

I laughed. “Well, you were pretty quick with those chair legs …”

A deep smile brightened his face. Dimples. White teeth. Charming as hell. Just like Will. But never Will again. I sighed.

Get used to it, Charlie.

Rex leaned over and grabbed the afghan from the basket by the side of the couch. “Come on.” He patted his chest and leaned back. “Come to Daddy.”

Oh my God. I shook my head, laughing, crying, and beyond exhausted.

“Rest, Charlie. It’s okay to lean on someone else, you know.” He held out his arm. “Come, come.”

I crawled forward and laid flat on top of him. He let out a suffocated oomph and I hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” I whispered, kissed his cheek, and then rolled off of him and onto my feet. “Good night, Rex.”

“Night, Charlie.”

The next morning, Rex and I sat down at the kitchen table.

And we told Emma everything.

To say it was horrible was a severe understatement.

She just stared at us. Blank. Stunned. Unable to process what we told her. It was the longest moment of my life. I heard every bird chirp, every car pass, every tick of the clock in the living room.

It was as though time was suspended for this one cruel moment.

Emma had such an expressive face. Her big brown eyes were so wide, so round, so glassy. They latched onto me, desperate. So desperate. And I held them with my own, reaching across the table to grab her hand.

She didn’t move. Her eyes said everything. Her face was a progression of disbelief, denial, panic, acceptance, and slow, agonizing grief. I watched each phase, feeling it all with her.

Never having done this before, I experienced a moment of uncertainty—more like panic—but I was trying to be calm and figure out how to comfort her and what to say. But when that first fat tear fell and her face turned red, I went down on my knees in front of her and gathered her into my arms as though she was a toddler, lifted her up, and carried her into the living room. I sat down with her in my lap and held her tightly.

Inside, my heart raced. I fought hard to suppress my emotions, to be there for her, to be strong, and not crack right along with her.