Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“You do help by being here. The time with the kids and the cooking lessons with your guy—”
My turn to wince. “Not sure he’s my guy.”
“Ah. The cause of your sleeplessness?” Eric managed half a smile.
“Yeah, but we were talking about you.” The last thing I wanted to do was unload on Eric about my love life.
“I’m boring.” He shrugged, the motion revealing slim shoulder blades. He’d lost too much weight. “Same old grief. I keep expecting it to get better, but it doesn’t. Maybe it won’t.”
“It will.” I clapped him carefully on the back.
“You don’t know that.” His tone was more matter-of-fact than argumentative, but the rebuttal still stung.
“I have faith.” I tried for a brightness I wasn’t feeling.
“Sean, buddy. Of course you have faith.” Eric clearly wasn’t buying my assurances either. “You haven’t had your faith tested. You’ve led a fairly charmed life. Which is awesome and good for you, but not everything is fixable with a pep talk and one of your mom’s casseroles.”
“Oh.” I took a long breath, let his words sink in. I had led a pretty blessed life. Both my sisters were still living, my parents had been married for forty-five years, and while middle class, we’d always had a certain stability I often took for granted. I’d lost a few good coworkers over the years, and those tragedies left a mark, but I couldn’t say as I carried many scars other than my failed marriage. Oh, indeed. I was scared of failing with Denver. I kept arguing with him about dating, but was I holding on so tightly because I didn’t want to fail again?
I didn’t know.
And more importantly, I kept acting like Denver’s past and Eric’s grief were minor inconveniences. Fixable, like Eric said. Maybe some wounds went too deep for a little Murphy optimism and a quick repair job.
“That’s fair. I’m lucky.” I measured my words, careful to not sound defensive. He was right. “And I guess I want that same luck for others. I want to fix things even when I don’t know how.”
“I know you want to help. It’s one of your best qualities, and I’m sorry if I sounded snappy.” Eric swirled the tea in his mug. “But one of the lessons I’ve had to learn as a parent is that sometimes we can’t make it better.”
“I get that. Not being able to keep Declan safe keeps me awake plenty of nights. Bridget too. I hate knowing there’s little I can do to protect them from pain.” I stared down at my hands. Strong hands. Capable. The same hands my dad and grandpa before him had, but they weren’t magic. I couldn’t protect Denver from his past any more than I could will Declan safely over the finish line.
“Exactly. As a prime example, Wren had another nightmare tonight. They’ve had them for years.”
“That sucks.” My mouth twisted and double layers of helplessness made my shoulders and neck knot up. I couldn’t save Wren from a nightmare and couldn’t save Eric from the parental stress of dealing with it.
“It does. And I can’t take away the past, the nightmare, or the fear that caused it. All I can do is meet them where they are, hold space in the present. So when I say you help by being here, I’m not being trite. You do help.”
“I get what you’re saying. I’m only human,” I said slowly, flexing my hands. Human. Not magic. “Damn it, I knew I forgot to pack my superhero cape.”
“Ha.” Eric smiled. Holding space. That was what he was doing for me here too, giving me space to come to my own conclusions rather than lecturing me about my rose-colored outlook on life. I wasn’t exactly sure how to apply these new insights to my present standstill with Denver, but I felt better having talked with Eric.
On my way into the station for the six a.m. start of my shift, I passed by the diner. I slowed, knowing full well I didn’t have time to stop and wouldn’t know what to say even if I did have time to catch Denver at the end of his night shift. I wished I knew how to make things right, not simply between us, but also for Denver, how to make him feel safe and secure and want the same things I did, like a future.
But maybe he didn’t. Couldn’t.
I didn’t care for that line of thinking, so I drove on and pushed my personal problems aside for the shift change meeting. The prior shift reported having a slow day and night, but we had barely settled into our morning routine when a call arrived about a cloud of smoke coming from a dispensary on the edge of downtown.
“A pot shop is lit?” Johnson was quick with the jokes, as always.