Page 77 of #Lovestrong

Declan

Lena fell asleep an hour ago curled up next to me with her head on my chest. As much as I don't want to move, I have to pee so bad that staying in bed isn't an option anymore. I slide my arm from underneath her and move as slowly as possible to let her head rest on the pillow. Luckily, she doesn't wake, so I cover her with her afghan and head for the bathroom.

As I come out, a thin ray of light from the kitchen catches my attention. Quietly, I head that way and find Mr. Harrison sitting at the table with a tumbler and open bottle of whiskey. Not wanting to disturb him, I turn to head back to Lena's room.

"No need to tip toe around. Come sit down." His voice is low, but just loud enough to catch my attention.

I chuckle to myself as I turn around and head back, taking the seat next to him. "I didn't want to intrude."

"Ah, you're fine. Seems like we're both having trouble sleeping." He picks the bottle up and pours a little into the glass. He's not drunk, and there's only a little missing from the bottle. "She seems at peace when you're around."

Taking a deep breath, I nod. "I feel the same way about her."

"I know," he says with a sigh. "As much as I hate to admit it, because that's my little girl, it's obvious you love her. I remember the way I used to look at her mother, like she was the only girl in the room. That's the look I see in your eyes when you look at my Lena."

"Where is her mother?" I regret asking the moment the words are out of my mouth, but I want to know, and I don't think Lena's ever going to open up about her mom.

"She ran off with another man when Lena was five. Her family is from a small town in northern Syria. She came here for school, but was supposed to go back to marry a man her father had chosen for her. She stayed here and married me instead."

My heart is lodged in my throat. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. She walked away from the best part of herself, and I got the blessing of it all. Lena was young, and it was just us. There wasn't time to cry and grieve. I had a little girl to do right by."

"Lena thinks the world of you."

He chuckles. "Oh, I know. I wouldn't be the man I am today if it wasn't for her. But nothing could've prepared me for that shooting. What it felt like not knowing, for hours, if she was alive. Finally getting a call she was in the hospital. The whole drive there, I didn't care what shape she was in, I only cared that she was alive."

It's impossible for me to understand what either of them must’ve felt that day. Lena, being shot and knowing so many of her friends were dead. Mr. Harrison, only knowing students were dead but not if his only daughter was among them. That's a level of Hell I don't ever want to experience.

"Who was the woman earlier tonight?"

Mr. Harrison downs what's left in his glass and looks at me. "Cameron's mother."

Cameron? I know that name, but I can't place it. My face scrunches together as I wrack my brain, trying to remember all the people Lena has mentioned. "The boyfriend?"

Her dad nods while keeping his eyes on the table. "They'd been best friends since grade school. I honestly never thought they'd date. Cam was the only boy who ran with Lena, Jaz, and Camilla. Had been since they were little brats."

"She really cared about him."

"She did. Still does. I don't imagine that's a ghost that goes away quickly. Ah, she'd had a crush on that boy her whole life. Taught her not to take things for granted, I think." Mr. Harrison pours himself another drink. "There's nothing worse than being that close to someone and having a million things you want to tell them, only to have them ripped from your life without ever getting the chance to."

"Is that why you're more lenient with me and her, Sir?"

Mr. Harrison reaches over and clasps my shoulder. "I trust the Lord more now than I ever have, son. I seem more lenient with you because I'm letting Him direct our lives. Lena was raised right, and so were you. You've both got good heads on your shoulders. Whatever happens, happens. God knows what He's doing."

I nod and Mr. Harrison gets up, rinses his glass before setting it in the sink, and sets his whiskey bottle back in the fridge. He pats me on the back before heading out of the kitchen, and for a few moments, I don't move. It isn't until Lena's whimpers and cries echo through the hallways that I take off toward her room.

She's tossing and turning, her face soaked, but she isn't awake. I climb into bed and pull her to me, gently saying her name until she opens her eyes. Her breathing is erratic, and when she launches into my arms, I don't hesitate to wrap them around her, rocking her back and forth until she's calm enough to talk.

Mr. Harrison is right— God is driving us, and I trust His directional skills far better than my own.