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The calmness, knowing my father would never feel pain again.
I reminded myself of how it felt to see that big, strong protective father of mine, crumbling to the ground during a heart attack.
And then seeing him in the hospital so many times over the last two years.
Then again, the thought of going into the house and knowing he wasn’t there…
But my son is in there.
I finally forced myself off the steps.
I walked the stale pack of cigarettes to the trash and tossed them.
That was one promise I could easily keep.
Especially to my son.
I walked back up the porch steps and as I reached for the door, my phone vibrated.
My first thought was that the funeral home was calling.
Not at this hour of night…
Chills raced up my back.
I looked at the screen and sucked in a breath.
I shut my eyes.
A few minutes after Travis went back inside, I found myself craving another cigarette.
I ended up squeezing my eyes shut and thinking about any good memory of my father I could muster up.
While telling myself I did not need a cigarette.
The collision in my head ended up taking me back in time and I pictured my father on the ice with a hockey stick, bent forward, barking orders at… Henry.
The name made me shiver.
Before those shivers dug for any skeletons in the closet, I found myself hurrying to text him.
Out of anyone in the world besides myself and Travis, there was only one other person who understood my father.
Henry.
And now I was staring at his name on my phone.
I texted him.
He was now calling.
That was so Henry.
But for some reason… it comforted me.
Chapter Three
HENRY
