The next morning, Joel woke up with a start.

He shot up in bed, one hand twisted in the sheet, the other holding onto his pounding head. He groaned, and curled over. His head hurt and he’d only been awake for twelve seconds.

He pushed the covers off his body, relishing in the cool air against him as he peeled off the sticky sheets from his skin. He felt grimy, his skin having its own second layer made out of sweat.

Since he could never remember the nightmares, it would be nice if his headaches and sweat would magically disappear when he woke up, too. It would be much easier to get on with his day and pretend like he hadn’t been restlessly watching his wife die all night if he didn’t wake up to the physical evidence.

Shaking his head, Joel tried to clear the thoughts. It would do him and Janie no good if he dwelled on this.

It was just that—he hadn’t had the nightmare in nearly six months. It was supposed to be going away.

But he guessed that he’d never really escape the memory. And, considering Janie’s accident yesterday, it was fair that his subconscious was a bit freaked. He could hardly blame his poor brain for that.

Joel climbed out of bed and bunched the sheets up, throwing them in a ball on the floor. He needed to do laundry—wash away the evidence of the nightmare, hope that the nightmare itself washed away with it.

A quick peek at the clock told him it was still before seven, so he hopped into the shower. He washed quickly and scrubbed his hands a bit too hard through his hair but was in and out within ten minutes, which he counted as a win.

Staring at his closet, he contemplated his day. He didn’t have any properties to visit, just a few sketches to work up and probably a half-dozen calls with contractors to get the prices where his clients needed them. The small bungalow he was redoing was going to be incredible, but the budget needed to be upped by another five thousand if it was going to be what the homeowners wanted. Since that was unlikely on their teachers’ salaries, he was going to have to do some real smooth talking to the vendors.

And since he’d been called in to Janie’s school last Friday, he doubted that she’d get in trouble again today. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to leave the house at all.

He dressed in a green cotton shirt, one that was a bit light and too airy to wear anywhere other than home or the beach. His light jeans had a hole in the knee but considering no one would see him but Janie, he didn’t really care.

Joel stopped by Janie’s room, putting his ear to the door. There was the sound of her music, a godawful boy band he’d seen live too many times to be comfortable with, and the small curses he pretended not to hear every morning as she readied for school.

Laughing quietly under his breath, he continued on to the kitchen and flickered on the coffee pot. Two cups down and he’d be enough of a human to start his workday.

Joel turned the radio on and listened to the morning news while he got out the ingredients for omelettes. He wasn’t always good at cooking breakfast for Janie—the poor kid ate more cereal than he strictly thought was healthy—but Mondays were tough. Janie really hated school.

He lifted a knife up in greeting when he heard the stool scoot across the floor, not looking up from where he was chopping onions. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, pumpkin.”

The knife slid and nicked his thumb. “Fuck!” He cried, dropping the knife and raising his thumb to his mouth, sucking on the small, bleeding cut. His heart hammered in his chest and he stared, wide eyed, at an equally horrified looking Nick.

Joel had completely forgotten Nick was here.

He had completely forgotten that a grown man was staying in his home.

“I’m so sorry,” Nick said, leaning forward to reach over the counter before thinking better of it and letting his hands fall. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“You didn’t,” Joel glared, but he had a feeling the look was minimized by the way his thumb was still in his mouth.

Nick’s eyes were glued to his thumb and he stared at it, jaw slightly dropped. His eyes were glazing over and Joel felt bad that Nick was feeling bad.

Well, he was probably making it look worse than it was. Joel sighed and removed his thumb, swiping it against his bottom lip and wiping his hands on a tea towel.

“It’s really alright,” Joel said, picking up the knife again. He started to continue his chopping. “It’s just a nick.”

“Sorry,” Nick croaked out.

Joel shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The coffee pot gurgled to a stop and his smile shifted to something much more real. “Coffee, Nick?”

Nick’s gaze cleared as it snapped up. “Oh! Yes, please.”

Joel laughed at the eagerness. Nick was half slumped over, head propped into his hands, and his eyes fluttered closed in the time it took Joel to turn around and pour the coffee into a mug. Joel took the time with Nick’s eyes closed to look at the man.

He had a pillow crease on his left cheek and his clothes—the same ones that Joel had given to him yesterday to borrow—were crumpled. His hair was a complete mess, one side flattened against his head while the other side was nearly standing straight up. It was clear he had forgone any sort of mirror in favor of following the smell of coffee.

Joel appreciated that. He never felt like a whole person until he had some coffee in him.

He set the mug on the counter in front of Nick, turning around to pour his own mug and hide the smile that popped up when Nick looked down adoringly at the mug.

He leaned against the counter, sipping from the mug until the steaming hot coffee burned away enough of his taste buds for him to drink it down fast. He poured a second mug and then set it down next to the fridge, grabbing the eggs out to start whipping them together.

“Would you like an omelette?” Joel asked, trying to clear some of the silence away.

“Only if I can help with something,” Nick said.

Joel glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “Sure,” he agreed. “Want to chop the ham and cheese up?”

“Awesome,” Nick reached over the counter and dragged the cutting board towards himself. Joel handed him the sliced ham and block cheese, leaving him to his own devices while he whisked the eggs in a small bowl.

When the eggs were ready, he started to heat up a skillet. “How did you sleep?”

Nick looked up, hand frozen above the board and his tongue peaking halfway out of his mouth in concentration. His face cleared up and he went back to cutting. “Well, thanks! I can’t believe I slept for almost twelve straight hours but.” He shrugged and then pushed the cutting board back across the table, grinning. “There! All done.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Thank you for your service,” he muttered wryly, grabbing the board and taking it to the eggs on the stove.

Nick laughed, loudly. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Joel shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ll just start on Janie’s and then make yours.”

“Oh, no rush,” Nick said. “Actually, I was wondering if I could take a shower. I feel a little grimy.”

Joel nodded, not looking away from the skillet. “Yes, the ocean will do that to you. Please, feel free. Do you remember where the bathroom is?”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

“Oh!” Joel cleared his throat. “I washed your clothes last night. They’re folded on the countertop in the bathroom now.”

“Oh, wow, you didn’t have to do that. Thanks!” Joel glanced behind his shoulder, watching as Nick hopped off of the stool and downed the rest of his coffee. “Goddamn this is good coffee.”

Joel rolled his eyes again. “Thank you. I can make more for when you finish your shower.”

Nick grinned and placed both hands on the counter. “Well, I won’t say no to that. Thanks, man. I’ll be back.”

He bounded off, his hair still a mess, but the caffeine having woken him up. Joel watched him until he disappeared into the hallway and then cursed, turning to the omelette and trying to salvage it before it burned.

Luckily, it was fine. Joel plated it as Janie came into the room.

Already, she was scowling. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she wore thick black eyeliner that he had banned from the house and her face a dozen times. But at least her outfit today, black jeans and a band t-shirt he didn’t recognize, seemed appropriate enough. No curse words, so no calls from her homeroom teacher reminding him he’s an unobservant father.

“Morning, Janie,” he set the plate on the kitchen counter and went to grab her orange juice from the fridge. “Sleep okay?”

“No,” she said, shoveling a forkful of eggs in her mouth.

Joel rolled his eyes at the safety of the fridge. Then he turned back and poured her a glass of juice, leaning on the counter. “Want to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Well, then.” He sighed. “Good talk.”

Janie smiled sweetly. “You, too.” She looked around. “Is Nicolas still asleep?”

Joel started on the second omelette. “No, he’s in the shower.”

Janie nodded. She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything.

Joel waited. With Janie, it was a waiting game that you pretended you weren’t playing. The headache he woke up with was still a low thrum beneath his skull, gentler now that he’d showered and drank some coffee. But it made itself known again as he waited for Janie to say whatever was on her mind.

If she asked to skip school again, he didn’t know what he’d do. He couldn’t keep convincing her middle school was worth it. He knew middle school sucked.

He flipped the omelette and turned around. He leaned against the counter by the stove and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

Janie stared at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a thin line. She didn’t move; he refused to budge.

Eventually, Joel knew one of them would break. But it would not be him. His daughter was stubborn as hell, but he had many decades in practice on her. He could wait until her tiny little body couldn’t handle the excitement anymore and she told him what she was thinking.

He took a sip of his coffee.

She fidgeted.

“Fine!” She threw her hands up in defeat.

Joel grinned. “Aha!” he said in triumph.

Janie glowered at him but he just grinned at her, only about a millimeter too mature to stick his tongue out at her.

Janie huffed. “I want Nick to stay here.”

Joel froze, his glee seeping out of him immediately. “Why?”

“Why does it matter? I want him to.” Janie crossed her arms, glaring.

Joel dropped his arms to his side when he realized they were mirroring each other’s angry body language. “It’s a weird request.”

“It is not!”

“He’s a stranger,” Joel explained. He bent over the counter, lowering his head until they were nearly at eye level. “He can’t just stay in our home.”

“Well, why not?” None of the anger left Janie’s stance. If anything, Joel’s refusal seemed to be making her angrier. Joel was confused.

“He’s a stranger,” he repeated. “He could be dangerous.”

“He saved my life!” Janie said.

“Yes, and we let him stay last night because of that. He has to leave. We don’t just let strangers live in our house, Janie.”

“I like him!”

“Tough luck, kiddo.” Joel pushed off the counter and went back to the stove, throwing the nearly burned omelette on a plate. He poured in the last of the ingredients for a third one for himself and tried not to slam things around too loudly.

Janie was so hard to reason with. He didn’t know how to explain to her that strange, random men couldn’t just stay in their house—it was just how it was. It was dangerous and it was weird and Janie needed to learn she couldn’t always get her way just because she wanted to.

Even when Nick came back into the room, his greeting to Janie almost as joyful as hers was. He frowned at the skillet.

“Um, Joel?” Joel reluctantly turned around, trying to keep the scowl off his face as he handed Nick his plate. “Oh, thanks. I was actually wondering—um, is there any more coffee?”

Joel glanced back at the pot and sighed. “No, I’m sorry, I’ll make more.”

“Oh, no worries!” Nick said quickly. “It’s no problem, one cup was good.”

“I’ll make more,” Joel said. He glanced at Janie who shot him a glare before looking away. He swallowed another sigh and grabbed the coffee pot to fill with water, startling at the time on the microwave. “Oh, shit. Janie, you need to get going.”

Janie looked up at the clock and groaned. “Can’t you drive me?”

Joel glanced and the clock again and contemplated if there would be time. He turned back to answer her when she interrupted. “Oh! Actually, can Nick drive me?”

Something hot spiked his blood.

Nick perked up, smiling, and Joel cut him off quickly. “No,” he said firmly.

Nick sat forward and ignored the warning look Joel tried to shoot him. “I don’t mind.”

“See!?”

“I said no, Janie.” Joel said, his voice raising on the last syllable.

“But Dad—”

“No, Janie,” he cut her off. “Go take the bus, you’re not getting a ride with a stranger.”

Nick flinched a little and he felt bad, but Janie distracted his guilt by letting out a horrifyingly loud, piercing scream and pushing away from the counter, stomping towards her room. Joel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“That was—loud.” Nick murmured.

Joel opened his eyes and frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Nick’s eyes widened. Joel noticed for the first time how big they were—and bright blue, a color that couldn’t really be compared to the sea or the sky. They were just—so blue. He ran through the list of colors he knew from his many hours staring at paint chips and settled on one. Cerulean. “It’s not—I wasn’t—I just mean, kids, you know?”

Joel’s lips quirked. The poor guy looked nervous and he watched him squirm for a second before trying to relieve some of the pressure. “Yes, I know.”

Nick’s mouth opened and his cheeks flushed. “Right,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. It was clearly at himself and he shook his head minutely. “Yeah, of course you would know.”

Joel almost laughed but was interrupted by Janie stomping back into the room with her backpack on and earphones plugged into her iPod.

She came back to the counter and held out her hand, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Her lips were pursed, eyes narrowed. His good mood evaporated as he watched her scowl at him.

Joel rolled his eyes at her but grabbed a five dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her for lunch money. She shoved it in her pocket and smiled mockingly at him, waving her fingers as she spun around on her heel and stomped out of the house.

“Have a good day, Janie!” he called after her, aware that her music was probably loud enough that she couldn't hear him. “I love you!”

The door slammed. Joel shook his head and turned back to his skillet. He transferred the omelette and restarted the coffee pot.

He didn’t mean to piss her off. He always did, he couldn’t help it, but Janie didn’t listen. She heard what she wanted. He didn’t want her getting weirdly attached to this strange, older guy. It was weird and, again, dangerous.

He frowned at himself. If Joel was being honest with himself, he probably was less upset that she was attaching herself to this guy than it was that she was attaching herself to anyone that wasn’t him. He wanted their relationship to be good—really good, not just okay, not just workable.

He knew Janie loved him. It would just be really nice if his daughter liked him, too.