Chapter 23
Then I went back to the kitchen. I could tell he’d done his best to keep it clean. The dishes were at least rinsed off and nothing smelled bad, so I wasn’t worried about finding something nasty in the sink.
My heart ached for him. I imagined him shuffling around, using up the last of his energy to make sure the place was clean enough and not hazardous.
“Shit.” I grabbed a trash bag and got to work.
A couple hours, two loads of laundry, floor-mopping, and what felt like all the dishes in the world later, I was starting to see the end of it. I was in the middle of scrubbing the countertops when Mr. Cross joined me.
“Feel better?” I smiled at him but continued working. My energy started waning, and I wanted to be done so I could go home to Asher and crash on his couch.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was nearly as rumbly as his son’s, and I imagined this was how Asher would sound in thirty years or so.
“Because I care.”