Chapter 4

Grandpa was asleep on the couch when I got home.

The television was on, but he'd turned the volume down. One slipper had slipped halfway off his foot. There was a cup of cold tea on the table beside him.

I stopped in the doorway.

My parents had died in a plane crash when I was a child. Grandpa took me in, but the company kept him away for long days. Daniel was still a teenager then. He sat beside me while I did homework and talked through the ordinary things I couldn't ask my parents anymore. For years, I'd felt safest when he was home.

The last time I'd seen him, he'd been in a wheelchair with a blanket over his knees, asking why I hadn't come sooner. Daniel had told the staff I was unstable. They'd started hanging up when they heard my voice.

Now Grandpa opened his eyes and pushed himself upright.

“Claire? Why didn't you answer?”

I crossed the room and knelt beside him.

“Sweetheart?”

He put a hand on my head. I started crying before I could tell him I was all right.

He didn't believe me when I finally said it.

“Something happened.”

“Daniel wasn't well. I got help. He's with Lydia.”

Grandpa's hand went still.

He knew I'd been hurt when Daniel started seeing her. He didn't know how far beyond that I'd already been.

“Did he do something to you?”

I could tell him about the couch. I could tell him Daniel had grabbed me. What I couldn't do was put a dead year's worth of memories on the coffee table and expect him to recognize them.

“He frightened me,” I said. “I don't want to be alone with him again.”

Grandpa looked at my face for a long time.

“Then you won't be.”

I wanted it to be that easy. In my first life, he'd tried to protect me with a wedding, then tried to undo it after the damage had already been done. Loving me hadn't made every choice he'd made the right one.

“Please don't try to fix things between us,” I said. “I don't want a conversation. I want space.”

He nodded slowly.

“All right.”

I helped him upstairs, walking beside him without touching him more than he wanted. He could climb the steps. He could complain about his knees. I let him complain as long as he liked.

In my room, everything was where I'd left it before taking the folder to Daniel. A half-finished paper on the desk. A blue sweater on the chair. A pair of running shoes by the closet.

I sat on the floor and put them on.

Then I stood. I walked to the window and back. It was ridiculous, but I kept doing it until I could breathe without crying.

I slept with the lamp on.

***

At six in the morning, I gave up trying to sleep and opened my laptop.

There was a boxing gym near campus with classes for beginners and private instruction. I sent an inquiry. I wasn't going to become invincible in a week. I wanted to learn how to get somebody's hands off me and get out of a room.

I added the number for campus security to my favorites. Then I did the same with our house manager's number.

The changes were small. I needed them small enough to make.

Downstairs, somebody laughed.

I stopped on the landing.

Lydia's cardigan hung on the coat stand. Daniel's shoes were beside it.

They were sitting at our breakfast table when I came in.

Grandpa sat opposite them, his coffee untouched.

Lydia smiled.

“Morning, Claire. Did you sleep well?”