When they got back, Angie's head leaned against the truck window, mostly asleep. Metal figured there was a 50/50 chance she would stay asleep, but by the time he circled round to her side of the truck the door was open and she practically tumbled out of the truck, eyes half closed. Automatically he steadied her, hand on her shoulder and drawing her close to his side as he shut the door of the truck.

She leaned into him and shivered again. Since that moment in the water, she'd been taking any chance she could to be close to him. Whether it was triggered by the events of the day, or built up over time and a natural need of hers for touch, he couldn't tell. Maybe it was both. Either way, he couldn't say he minded too much. It was almost a relief. He couldn't fix what was going on inside her head, but he could hold her and hopefully make her feel safer.

"You alright?" He asked, keeping a hand on her shoulder as he guided her sluggish feet up the walk.

The child didn't answer more than a brief nod.

They needed to work on that. Both of them. He knew he was just as bad.

"Come on, one foot in front of the other. Almost there."

Angie moved so slow and sleepy that he was tempted to pick her up again, but Metal figured he better not push it. They made progress. Better to let it simmer again before testing the waters and seeing if she truly did want more contact, or if it was just a today thing. Kids were fickle, or so he'd found.

When they were finally in the house, he had to hold her arm while she took her shoes off so she didn't fall into the wall.

"Go get ready for bed."

"C-could we still read? Please?"

That one request, sleepy, hopeful and broken all at once, sliced through every resolve he'd had in making sure she went to bed the moment they got home. It reminded him of the whole reason he'd started to read to her in the first place, and after today perhaps it was more important than ever.

He hated the idea of her crying herself to sleep. As a rule he didn't typically have that much sympathy for the average person and was well known to be rough and gruff, but when it came to Angie? Oh, he was quickly finding it was a different story with her. Kids were just too pure. He felt like he needed to preserve it any way he could before the world chewed them up and spat them out.

"One chapter." He answered firmly, nudging her towards her room. "Hurry up."

Angie tried to comply, but she still bumped into the corner of the wall when she turned up the hall to her room.

Minutes later she was back, eyes still half closed, Russel under her arm and a blanket around her shoulders like a cape. Just before she took her usual spot at the opposite end of the couch, Angie hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye he could practically see the wheels spinning inside her little head.

"What do you need, Angie."

"I…" Angie fumbled for words as her fingers curled tighter into her blanket and she flicked those same big, pleading brown eyes over to him just like she had earlier by the fireside. "I'm still cold."

The first thought that entered his head was that she must be getting sick. The air wasn't that cool indoors, the night was still warm inland and she'd been dry for hours now. Leaning forward, he motioned her closer and somewhere in the back of his head he noted how quickly she came to him.

"You feelin ok?" He asked, searching her face. Instantly her eyes dropped to the floor and she flushed a deep shade of pink.

"Yes. I…I'm just…"

Angie couldn't seem to bring herself to finish and that lower lip started to wobble dangerously again.

Shit. Not again. Naima had practically knocked it into his head that Angie needed to be allowed to cry and no matter how much he wanted to make it stop, it needed to be allowed. That didn't make it easier to watch though.

"Come here. It's ok. If you're cold, you're cold." He lifted his arm, leaving it up to her just how close under it she curled.

Only when Angie was tucked in, right against him with her feet tucked under her, and releasing a relieved little sigh did Metal finally clue in.

Oh. Alright. Still just needing contact. Not cold. Not getting sick. Just afraid to ask if she could be close.

Choosing not to comment on it, he opened the book and started to read instead. There wasn't a high expectation that she would stay awake long, so when she was still awake at the end of the chapter, Metal wasn't sure what to make of it.

His arm had been around her ever since she'd slipped under it, but the tension in her body hadn't left the way he'd hoped. The only thing that kept him from moving it was the fact she'd hesitantly dropped her head down against his chest near the end of the chapter.

While he was still debating what he would do with her, read another chapter or try to coax her into telling him why she was still awake, Angie stirred suddenly and her head lifted.

"Thank you," She whispered.

Startled from his thoughts, Metal asked, "For what?"

"For…for reading to me…and keeping me safe…in the water…"

Just when he thought the kid couldn't get her hooks any deeper into his heart, she melted past his defenses and caught him off guard all over again.

Without reservation and filled with conviction, Metal met her big Bamie eyes and replied, "I'll always do everything I can to keep you safe, Angie. That's a promise."

For once Angie's eyes didn't dart away after a few moments of making contact with his own and he could feel her weighing the words out, deciding if she believed him or not. The series of expressions and thoughts that flashed through her little face happened too quick for him to read. In the end, she drew a long breath and put her head back down against him, curling in just a little and prompting him to tighten the arm around her.

"One more chapter?" He asked, looking down at the top of her head as he admitted to himself he didn't want to let her go just yet. Tucking her into bed after she was asleep was a routine now and he didn't like the thought of not doing it tonight.

Angie shifted and her tone was unmasked hope as she said, "Really?"

Damn, he really wished he hadn't missed her younger years and that he'd been there from the start. Or maybe that was a good thing. She already had him wrapped around her finger in less than a week, even if she didn't know it. Heaven help him when she figured it out.

"Just this once." Metal tried to sound like he meant it, but there was a warmth that snuck into his tone.

The girl nodded seriously as she snuggled down more comfortably than she had for the last chapter. It seemed like she'd forgotten herself, because the second she was comfy she froze with realization and he could practically taste the uncertainty in the air.

Ignoring it, he started to read again, casually shifting his arm so he could flick the blanket over her toes more before returning it around her tiny body. Three paragraphs in, Angie's anxiety vanished and she relaxed fully for the first time that day. Her eyes slammed shut by the third page and by the fourth her breathing leveled out, head heavy against his side.

Testing the depth of her sleep, Metal let his fingers run through the ends of her curls. When she didn't stir, he put the book down and waited another five minutes. Usually he read his own book or worked on his phone, but tonight he couldn't help watching his child while she slept.

His grieving, troubled, painfully brave child.

Today she'd faced trauma with more steel than some grown men he knew and he was still mad at himself for not asking more questions before letting her in the water. There was something that'd gotten under his skin, screaming at him that there was something wrong, and he had ignored it. He counted on her to tell him about things like that, forgetting she was just a child.

Metal frowned, shaking his head and absentmindedly fiddling with the ends of her curls again. He needed to do better. That couldn't happen again.

The sheer terror in her voice when she screamed for him was burned in his mind. That coupled with the humbling surprise of her using that word, 'daddy', was enough to keep his head spinning for hours.

Yeah. He needed to do better. As far as he was concerned he hadn't earned the right to that title yet, but hearing it, knowing she called for him when she was scared and no one else, knowing that word lurked in her mind? That made him want to hear it again, over and over for the rest of his life.

Studying her sun kissed freckles and noting some mild sunburn despite his efforts to keep her from burning, Metal supposed he should put her to bed.

Despite how few days it had been since his world being turned upside down, the routine felt like a well learned habit by now.

Most of the time he would pause in reading aloud, waiting and watching to see if she would stir. Then he would put the book down and scoop her up from her end of the couch. Angie usually stayed floppy, dead to the world and easy to transfer into her bed. There was always a thirty second delay in which Metal found himself holding onto her just a little longer than necessary, swaying beside her bed and studying her little face pressed against his shoulder as if it could reveal some great secret about what she needed from him or direct him in some way. Then he would slip her under the covers, tuck her, brush her hair back from her forehead and promise them both, "I've got you. We've got this. It'll be ok.".

Who that promise was for more, he couldn't say.

Tonight was different, for many reasons. For one thing he had to maneuver himself out from under her without her waking up, and pick her up. Then there was the whimper that stole from her lips right when he finished pulling the covers up around her. That forced him to stay an extra minute to see if she would wake up.

When she didn't stir again, he dragged himself to bed too even though he knew he'd be staring at the ceiling for hours. Being a parent brought a new kind of sleeplessness to his life.

Angie woke with a headache the next day and later than she'd been waking all week.

When she came out into the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day, Angie could hear Scott talking to someone on the phone.

His words were short and clipped, relying on one word answers as if he were irritated about something.

Cautiously she hovered near the wall, watching him pace the length of the kitchen and living room until he spotted her and wordlessly jerked his head towards breakfast already waiting for her at the table.

"She's just having breakfast now, but you can speak to her after that." His growl deepened as he continued to pace. "No. You had all week to call. You can wait till she's done eating. I have more questions anyway. No, we have not covered everything."

Eyeing him worriedly, Angie quietly began to eat even though she didn't feel like it. Her dad caught her watching him, drew a long breath and headed for the back door saying, "You said one week. It's been a week. I'm still waiting and I won't have time next week. Yeah, you bet it's inconvenient!"

Unsure who he was speaking to, or about what, Angie tried not to wonder if it had to do with her.

Unfortunately the moment that thought entered her mind, it wouldn't leave and as she choked down her breakfast all sorts of ideas flooded her mind.

What if she was the inconvenience? What was one week? Just one week of him taking her? Maybe he was just going to take her until someone else could be found to take her. Maybe she'd messed up yesterday and he decided he didn't want her after all. Had she been too clingy? Was it because she didn't tell him about being afraid of the water?

The headache started to throb harder and Angie put her head down on the table until she heard the back door open again and Scott stalked back in.

He held the phone out to her and said quietly, "It's Ronda. She wants to talk to you."

Blinking, Angie slowly took the phone from him. Ronda hadn't called all week even though she'd told Angie she would be checking in.

"Hello?" Angie said, not really wanting to talk to the woman and secretly wishing she'd stayed in bed as her dad took her dishes for her, minus the full cup of water, and put them in the dishwasher. Her head had been hurting so bad she forgot that was what she was supposed to do with them when she was done.

"Angie! How are you doing, honey? Sounds like you've had an exciting week!"

"I'm good." Angie tried to sound genuine, but the moment she heard the woman's overly bright voice, all the overwhelming feelings from the last few weeks came flooding to the surface, making her head pound harder and reminding her what she'd lost.

"How are things going with you and your dad?"

"Good." Angie would never have said otherwise. She didn't want to risk getting taken from him. This life she'd stepped into, while not the perfect one she had with her mom, it was inviting enough that she didn't want to leave.

"You know you can tell me if it's now, right?"

"I know."

"You're stuff should be arriving in the next few days, we got a little behind in packing things up and shipping them."

"Ok." Angie didn't really care and she was only half listening as she tracked her dad's moments from the living space off to his room instead, leaving her alone.

"You're sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Do you feel safe?"

"Yes."

"Are you getting enough to eat?"

"Yes."

"Does your dad still scare you?"

Angie blinked, startled by the question. Had it been that obvious before?

"No!" It wasn't exactly a lie. He didn't scare her, she was just scared of disappointing him or doing something that would make him not want to take care of her anymore.

"Ok good! He's really dedicated to making sure you're happy! I hope you know that and aren't causing him any trouble."

"I'm not." Angie retorted, although there was a hot, burning worry that boiled up. Had he said something to Ronda? Is that why she said that?

"Of course you aren't, sweetie. Now, I'm not sure when I'll be able to come and visit, but it should be before the end of the month. Is that ok? Or do I need to come sooner? You say the word, and I'll come, Angie."

"That's fine. You don't need to come sooner." Angie's heart clenched at the idea of Ronda coming and suddenly she was terrified the woman might be the one to change Scott's mind, and that she'd get taken from her dad one way or another. What if Ronda was starting to think Scott wasn't a good person for her to stay with after all? Was that why she was asking all these questions?

"Alright. Well, if you're sure. You have my number. I'll be in touch, honey."

"Bye, Ronda." Angie knew she was being too eager to hang up, but the longer she talked to Ronda, the more she wanted to start screaming and throwing things. That was weird.

Her throat was dry when she hit the red button to end the call and she could feel her heart in her chest. Spying the water in front of her, Angie gulped half the glass down before deciding it wasn't helping the sick feeling in her gut. She took the other half, dumped it down the drain and put the glass in the dishwasher.

"All done with Ronda?"

Angie tried not to flinch when her dad breezed back into the room, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Yeah."

Scott paused when she turned to face him, brow furrowing. "Everything alright?"

The first instinct was to burst into tears and tell him no, but Angie couldn't do that. He'd been patient yesterday. She couldn't repeat that again, especially if…if he was changing his mind.

"Uh huh." Angie lied. "What…what are we doing today?"

"We gotta head to the store, pick up a few things for you for school tomorrow since your stuff isn't here yet."

The irritation in his voice leaked back in and Angie wisely stayed quiet, not wanting to add to it and feeling the weight of being a hassle he had to deal with.

"Before we do that though I have another meeting and about ten phone calls to make, so you're going to spend a few hours at Aunt Naima's and Uncle Ray's."

Nodding, Angie kept her head down and started for her room to collect the books she'd read that Jameelah lent her. Scott was looking down at his phone when she passed, but his hand came down and out, palm stretched out to stop her.

Angie followed it up to his face and waited, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Are you ok with that?" He asked pointedly, most of his expression hidden today by the beard he'd been letting grow the past week.

"Yup." Angie told him, digging deep and schooling herself so that she didn't give away how bad her head hurt and how much she wanted to just be back at the beach, curled in his arms where the world seemed less scary and he felt warmer, more predictable and gentle.

"Ok. Go grab what you need. We're out the door in five."

He was more agitated today than he'd been all week and while he occasionally checked the rougher pattern of speak, it was creeping in more and more.

Yesterday Angie would have been almost happy to hear it, but today, she worried it meant she'd done something wrong.

Playing with Jameelah helped keep her mind off things and in the end Aunt Naima took them both shopping for the things Angie needed instead of Scott. The trip was less anxiety-inducing than she feared it would be. Once Aunt Niama assured her that her dad was paying for it and that he'd been firm about her picking whatever she needed and or wanted, Angie wasn't as shy about picking things she actually liked without looking at what was cheaper first.

Mommy taught her from a young age how to shop on a budget and had never hidden from her when they had tighter money months. Angie knew how expensive things were, so she played a careful balancing game and only picked a few of the more expensive options that she liked better unless Aunt Niama encouraged her to get to differently. She didn't want to cost her dad too much money. That would just…add to everything.

Aunt Niama seemed to sense she was overwhelmed by spending 'too much' and they stopped after finding the necessary items, plus one or two wants on Angie's part that were small. By the end of the trip, her list of school materials was all crossed off and Angie was the content owner of a beautiful plant for her room along with completely unnecessary colorful pens. Jameelah was just as excited about the pens and Angie promised to share them with her at school.

The headache eased for the most part until after lunchtime when Scott came back to take her home.

He was quiet and they hardly spoke for the rest of the afternoon, but he seemed less cranky than when he'd dropped her off with Aunt Niama, so Angie figured that was a win.

Like clockwork, at 4 o'clock they went for a walk and Angie dragged tail just a little more than she probably should have. She was just so tired and her feet hurt, and her fingers felt hot and puffy, like they were swollen or something, and everything felt like it took too much effort. Her dad only mentioned it once and cut the usual distance short by a a few blocks.

Angie was too relieved to be guilty or worried he was disappointed in her for not being able to keep up.

By dinnertime her head throbbed again and she was beginning to feel cross. Her fears seemed to be closing in on all sides. She worried about what would come with school the next day and what entering into a 'new routine' looked like. It scared her to think of her dad working and everything that came with it, him being gone suddenly without warning for days on end and not knowing when he would be back.

"Angie. How much water have you had to drink today?" Her dad asked quietly, watching her now with a furrowed brow as they finished up with eating. She still hadn't touched her water.

She didn't really want to answer because maybe it was one glass or two, just like all the other days. They'd been so busy, she kept forgetting to drink until the evening when it was too late.

She had a bad feeling he was about to make her drink her water.

This was just another problem she didn't want to face. Bed wetting. The idea of that happening again was beyond mortifying and Angie had been so careful not to drink too much water, especially in the evening.

"Some." She answered, meeting his eye and hoping to drive home the idea that there was no need for her to drink her water.

Brow raised just a touch and he leaned back in his chair.

"And how much is some?"

The question wasn't a challenge, but it was extremely pointed.

"I don't know…enough?"

"Drink your water, please."

"I'm not thirsty." Angie lied.

"You've hardly been drinking since you got here and that was days ago. It's not good for you. Drink the water."

"I can't!" She was starting to feel trapped.

"Why not?" Her dad's tone warned of growing irritation.

"Because I just can't!" Angie ground out, her temper suddenly flaring to life in response because she was suddenly angry that he wouldn't leave it alone, that he didn't understand and that he was getting mad at her. Why couldn't he see how hard she was trying to be a good little girl all the time for him!? Couldn't he just let her have this one?

"That's not a good enough reason. Drink the water."

Angie sat in silence, glaring at it as she fumed with fury that seemed to come out of nowhere. It felt so good and so bad all at once.

Across from her Scott crossed his arms and his face set into stone. "We can sit here all night, but you aren't getting down till that water is gone."

Angie's next actions mortified her and she would be haunted by it for weeks to come.

Her mind went blank. She reached for the water glass, and then it was like she was watching in slow motion as someone else threw it across the room.

The second it smashed on the floor Angie was herself again and she uttered a horrified gasp.

She tore her eyes from the shattered pieces on the ground, desperate and pleading as she braced herself for how her dad would react. At the same time she was reeling with panic because she didn't know why she did that! She didn't even think about doing it! It just happened ! Why did that happen? Why did she do that?!

That sick knot in her gut bloomed, crushing her chest from the inside out. This was not what being a good, cooperative and agreeable little girl looked like. Oh, how was he going to react? What would he do?! Was he going to yell at her? Would it be worse?

For his part, Scott was looking at the broken glass without any reaction at all. His arms were still crossed, his face was still set, but instead of firm and unyielding like before, it was completely blank.

Finally he nodded once, got up and went into the kitchen.

"I didn't mean t-" Angie's terrified plea died in her throat about the same time her breathing started to burn and she watched as Scott methodically got a new glass of water.

When he came back to the table, he circled around to sit in the chair next to her and set the water in front of her. As he sat down beside her, leaning his forearms on the table, he said with deadly calm, "You can smash as many glasses as it takes, but you're still drinking the water, and for every cup you break you have to drink an extra glass of water. You're up to two cups of water now. Get drinking."

The dam released and Angie burst into tears, gasping for air that couldn't seem to enter her lungs fast enough and barely managing to say, "I didn't mean to break it!"

Her dad met her earnest plea with the same unmovable calm and dangerous quiet.

"Ok. So, what happened, Angie?"

"I don't know!" Angie wailed desperately. He wanted answers that she didn't have! What if she answered wrong? What happened then?!

Scott shook his head, clasping his hands and studying her. "Nope. Walk me through it, step by step. What happened?"

Pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and rocking, Angie shook her head.

"I don't know!" She sobbed again. "I…I just picked it up and threw it! I didn't mean to! I really didn't! I don't know w-hy-why-why-"

The sound in her ears was starting to sound funny and the pounding in her head doubled as she struggled to breathe, cry and form words at the same time.

"Ok. Nevermind. This can wait." Scott's tone changed and he was shifting in his chair towards her. "Angie, you need to take a nice, slow, deep breath for me."

"I can't!"

"Yes, you can."

Hiccupping on another gasping sob, Angie tried to breathe, but she couldn't get enough to enter her lungs and that made it worse. Tightness closed around her throat and she wondered if she was dying.

Beside her she heard her dad sigh quietly and the next thing she knew she was being plucked right off the chair and pulled gently into his arms. Then they were both being lowered in a controlled descent against the wall, onto the floor where it was cool against her bare feet.

"I can't breathe!" She gasped weakly, fingers trying to claw at her throat, "I c-can't-"

"You can, and you will." The words were calm and firm as her dad arranged her in his lap so her feet still touched the floor and her head was guided so her ear pressed near his heart. "Breathe with me. You're ok. Just listen, and breathe. I've got you. Listen, and breathe with me. Nice and easy."

The steady rhythm under her ear and the calm movement of his lungs expanding acted like an anchor point. Angie latched on, and gradually her short gasps grew longer. When that finally happened she dissolved into sobbing again, only this time there was less pain and it felt normal.

"I really didn't mean to break it." Angie whimpered, hiding her face against him and clinging to his shirt, internally begging him to forgive her. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened!"

"I know, Angie." The arms around her tightened. "I understand."

"N-no! It-it was like watching someone else do it!" She cried, convinced that he didn't really understand and driven to make him realize. "That's what happened the last time when I…I broke all the cups in the cupboard after- what's wrong with me?!"

"You are a child who's lost her mother, you're grieving, you're carrying more than those little shoulders can manage and you're trying to do it all by yourself." The words were quiet and heavy with pained understanding. Her dad shifted his head and she could feel him looking at the top of her head. "And I see how much pain you are in. That's going to come out, Angie, in ways you don't mean and the more you try to face all of this all alone, the worse moments like those will get. Trust me. I know."

The spoken truths ripped deeper sobs from Angie, and she howled, "I miss my mom! Why did she leave me!?"

Her dad didn't answer, instead he wrapped her closer and pressed a kiss on the top of her head, rocking slightly.

"Everything hurts inside!" Angie couldn't stop herself now that the confession began. "It all hurts and I can't do it anymore! I don't want to do it anymore! I just want it to stop! I can't do it anymore!"

"I know. You don't have to, Angie. I've got you." The words near her ear were husky at the same time as compassionate and true. "You're not alone and I do understand how much you hurt inside. Let it out. You're safe here."

Angie's keening wail filled the air, tearing from her very soul and she wept loudly for the first time since the hospital when her mom died and a nurse held her.

This time, instead of feeling cold and utterly alone, Angie held on to the promise that her dad would shelter her.

How long she cried for, Angie could tell. It seemed like an age as all the versions of herself, those that she played at and imagined being during the day fell away, leaving behind only her, a broken little girl who'd lost everything she knew.

Eventually the tears ended, leaving Angie hollow, exhausted and quiet inside as she listened to her dad's steady heartbeat under her ear.

After a while Angie sniffed and whispered the shameful truth into the air.

"I can't drink the water. I don't want to wet the bed again."

Her dad stirred and drew a patient breath. "Angie, we'll deal with that if it happens, and we will deal with it as many times as needed. Not drinking water isn't going to make that go away and you'll only get sick."

"I don't feel sick." Angie protested without much fight left as she let her head rest listlessly against her dad's chest.

"You're getting dehydrated, kid," Her dad's gruff growl slipped in thickly and somewhere in Angie's muddled little brain she cheered because it sounded the same as when he spoke to Jameelah. "Do you understand what happens when you get dehydrated and that it's a very bad thing that you can die from? Yeah? Then you won't be too surprised if I tell you I have to take you to a hospital if you won't drink, and they'll put an IV in your arm and you'll have to get fluids that way instead. No…don't look at me like that, I'm not saying it to scare you. It's the truth, hard and cold. Now. Are you going to drink the water, or are you going to the hospital for dehydration?"

Swallowing down a shiver of fear at the idea of hospitals and needles, Angie whispered, "I'll drink the water."

"I thought you might." There was gentle amusement with the last growl, making Angie feel better about it all. "Come on. Up you get. Drink."

Tears gathered again and Angie dug her heels in over moving.

"I…I wanna stay with you." She whimpered, too broken and worn down to pretend she didn't want to be as close to him as possible right now.

She felt Scott shrug. "Done. Get up, grab the water and let's go to the couch."

Angie did as she was told, but when she grabbed the water and turned to go to the couches, her dad stopped her.

"Hang on, come here." He motioned to her, arms out and ready to lift her.

She let him and he hoisted her across the mess on the floor and plopped her over the back of the couch.

"Be there in a min," He promised as he started cleaning up the glass and water on the floor.

Guilt filled Angie's stomach and she mumbled, "Can I help?"

"No. Don't want you cutting yourself."

"It's ok, I don't mind." Angie tried to sound tougher than she felt and Scott lifted his head, looking at her sharply.

"Well, I do." He told her firmly and with quiet conviction that made her heart stop for a second.

The idea that he didn't need her to be tough, that he was willing to clean up a mess she'd made without complaint or lecturing her, that he just wanted to keep her from getting hurt; it all burrowed deep into her heart and left a long lasting impression.

"Drink your water. You still have another one after that."

Not arguing with that judgment, Angie started drinking and found she suddenly wanted to drink it. Nothing had tasted so good in her whole life and it was as if her body was rejoicing at the cool liquid. Drinking a second glass wasn't going to be a problem.

When she was done, Scott was still cleaning up the mess on the floor, so she carefully climbed over the back of the couch and started to get the second on her own. He paused and lifted her well past the 'danger zone' into the kitchen.

"You're going to need to keep your eyes open for the next while. That was a good throw and the glass traveled pretty far."

"Sorry." Angie mumbled, face heating up as she ducked her head.

"Not looking for another apology, kid, just telling you like it is. Be careful where you step."

Staying in the kitchen, Angie watched as he worked away at sweeping up glass, mopping water and finally vacuuming the area. Once Angie finished the second glass of water, the mess was cleaned up and her dad was jerking his head to the couch.

"Get over here if you still want to."

Angie couldn't resist. She'd been afraid he would forget and they would just move on, back to the way they were before. Not talking, distant and contactless.

She curled right in under his arms, heaving a bigger sigh than she meant to when her head settled comfortably near his heart again and the steady breathing quieted the guilt sitting on her own lungs. When the big arms came around her, Angie's tension melted and she tried not to start crying again.

She did anyway and her dad hushed her, pressing his scruffy cheek against the top of her head.

"It's going to be ok. May not feel like it right now, but it will someday. I'm here. I've got you."

Those were the only words he said for the next hour as Angie cried on and off, snuggled in his arms on the couch. And they were all she needed right now, so long as he held her. She was tired of words of wisdom. She just wanted someone to hold her and love her.