It takes almost four hours for a doctor to review the x-rays, because apparently worrying single dads into a cardiac event is good business. When one finally shows up, he says the break is a simple fracture, and it can just be set with a cast. I take her home, get her set up on the couch with all her devices and the remote for the TV and Roku, then proceed to badger the hell out of her, constantly checking on her, asking if she needs anything.

They plastered the cast on in the ER and they gave her crutches. I went ahead and rented a wheelchair from the local pharmacy, because that's just the sort of person I am. I don't want her accidentally putting weight on that leg if she can help it.

She doesn't complain about my hovering. I think she still feels guilty about the car and the accident and the money it's going to cost me to smooth things over. I try to keep a stern face every now and again, but I'm not thinking about any of that. I can always make more money. I can't replace my daughter.

So I fetch things for her, I make sure she takes her pain pills when she needs them, and I let her eat the worst food imaginable with no regard for time. Ice cream for breakfast, cereal for dinner. Aside from the beer she jokingly asks for one night, all bets are off.

That first night, I fell asleep in the armchair. The next night, I was at the kitchen table. Then in the recliner. Then various spots around the living room and kitchen. I even fell asleep standing up once.

A week out from the accident, I'm running on fumes. But I can't seem to leave Riley's side for anything more than a couple hours or so. It feels like if I do, something will happen. She'll develop an infection despite not having surgery and she’ll overheat when I'm sleeping upstairs. She'll choke on a popcorn kernel when I'm too far away to give the Heimlich. Her pain meds will make her so loopy she'll sleep walk out into traffic.

It's stupid. I know it is. And I can tell Riley's starting to feel better when she gets annoyed with me, but still I don't let up.

A huge part of it is that irrational fear. But part of it has been thinking about what we’re going to do. I took a week off from work, but clients' needs are piling up and I'm getting more and more emails. And Jake…

When I hear a knock on the door Tuesday afternoon, I think it might be him. I don't know what I'd do if it was. Beg him to come inside? Tell him I need him here with me, even if I have to put all of my time and energy into Riley? The thought's so selfish that I'm almost relieved when I open the door to find Gracie.

"Thought you kids could use some grub," she says.

There's a plastic bag with two takeout containers in one of her hands, and a drink carrier with two to-go cups in the other.

"You're a saint." I give her a weary smile and reach for the drink carrier.

The two of us bring in the haul and set it on the coffee table. No way I'm letting Riley make her way into the kitchen to get it.

"Hey, sweetheart," Gracie says, leaning over Riley to give her a gentle hug. "How you feeling?"

"Bored out of my mind," she responds.

"Yeah, I never did like sitting still either. But you'll be back on your feet in no time."

I open one of the trays, finding a thick, gooey grilled cheese sandwich encasing a perfectly cooked burger patty with fries and a little cup of tomato soup on the side. I shake my head, but a smile sneaks onto my face.

"That smells amazing," Riley says, and I have to agree. It's also a hell of a lot better than anything I've been able to cook for us.

"Special recipe. I cooked up every comfort food I could think of. Mac and cheese grilled cheese, cheeseburgers, tomato soup, and milkshakes."

I completely missed the mac and cheese inside the sandwich. This meal sounds like it might kill me, but at least it would be worth it.

"I really appreciate it, Gracie," I tell her.

"Don't even mention it," she says with a bright smile, crossing the room to give me a hug, too. "I can't stay, though. We've got some… things to deal with over at the diner."

Things could mean anything. A busy day, a backlog of bookkeeping, a health inspection, another visit from the Food Network. But the way Gracie says it makes me think this isn't any ordinary thing, and it definitely isn't good.

"Is something going on?" I ask cautiously.

She waves her hand dismissively. "Just somebody starting shit. We had a break-in last night, and whoever it was trashed the place. They didn't steal anything out of the register, though, and no one was there when it happened so nobody got hurt."

"Still, that sounds serious," I say, unable to imagine somebody choosing to vandalize a place like the diner.

"We'll handle it," Gracie says with a tight smile. "We always do."

Jesus, has this happened before? I don't get a chance to ask. Gracie pats my arm, says goodbye to Riley, and then heads back out to her waiting car, leaving the two of us to enjoy our million-calorie dinner.

And enjoy it we do.

It's funny. I've been wound so tight since the accident that I haven't really given myself the opportunity to just sit down and exist for a few minutes. The rich, warm food forces me to do just that, giving me the opportunity to catch my breath.

Riley, on the other hand, seems really on edge about something. She checks her phone for what must be the fifth time since we started eating.

"Something up?" I ask, taking a sip of my milkshake.

"Julie hasn't texted me at all today."

I frown at that. I've tried not to think of how Julie must be faring in all of this, but that's next to impossible. "Her parents probably grounded her."

"Yeah. They blocked my number." Riley's thumb rubs along the edge of her cup. "We… figured out a way around that, but I guess they probably took away her phone now."

Breaking rules, borrowing cars, and now masking phone numbers? I want to be the cool, supportive dad, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

"Riley, you guys can't keep doing this. I know being apart sucks, but… trying to fight Julie's parents is just making things worse."

I wait for the explosion I know is sure to come. It's not that I expect Riley to be defiant or throw a tantrum just for the sake of it. But she obviously adores this girl and to her, it's worth anything for the two of them to be together.

Instead of a blowup, though, I just get a resigned, "I know."

That's… a way more mature a response than I expected.

"I just hate this. I hate not being able to see her, to know she's okay."

I frown at that, feeling helpless. Jake probably knows something, but…

Riley looks down at her shake for a long while before her eyes finally cut to me. Her expression is cautious, and her lips form around the words she wants to say before they actually come out.

"Did you mean it? When you said she could stay here?"

Right after Julie's parents came to get her, I told Riley what I'd said to Jake only earlier that day. At the time, I did it because I wanted to make her feel better. She was more upset over Julie being gone than she was over anything else.

Now I have to decide if that's something I'm going to honor. No more hypotheticals. I meant what I said to Jake. It is the right thing to do.

But am I capable of doing the right thing?

"Yeah, I meant it. Once she turns eighteen, she can stay here as long as she likes."

Apparently I can, and the bright smile that spreads wide across Riley's features is icing on the cake.

"If I get up to hug you, you're going to freak. So can you like, come over here or something?"

I laugh and set my milkshake aside, maneuvering between the coffee table and the couch to hug her. Riley squeezes me tight, and I can feel her shake a little as she cries.

"Thanks, Dad."

My own eyes sting, and I have to blink the tears away as I draw back from her. It'll be tough. Being responsible for two girls is probably going to break me.

But it'll be worth it.

As I retake my place in the armchair, though, I realize Riley isn't done with the hard-hitting questions.

"So… is Mr. Morrison mad at me, or…?"

I blink at that, thrown so off-balance that I forget to feel anxious about Jake. "Mad at you? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"I just figured he'd come by at least once. You two were spending a lot of time together and things seemed like they were going well," she says, looking up at me from over the rim of her cup.

"They were," I admit. "But I… told him to hold off on visiting for a while. He doesn't need to spend all his time worrying about us. Especially now that I'm not working on the whole ranch project anymore."

It's not a lie. Not really. But it's not the truth, either, and it makes me feel sick just saying the words.

"Oh."

I can tell she doesn't believe me. I can see it in her eyes. But for once, she doesn't push. She just turns her attention back to the TV and the episode of The Walking Dead she's got playing.

I sit there and turn my gaze toward the flatscreen, but I'm not watching. My attention is focused inside my own head, where I can't help but think of how much easier this week would've gone with Jake here.

He could've watched Riley while I slept. He could've run to the store for me. We could've drawn comfort from each other. I could've been confident that someone in the world was there for me; willing to do everything in his power to help.

But this responsibility doesn't fall to Jake. Riley is my kid, and I failed her once. I don't intend to fail her again.

No matter what it costs me.