I really needed to ask Charlie and Uncle Teague about finding me a therapist. I needed to put these feelings somewhere they would help and not harm me or anyone else.
The dinner was nice. At one point, as we were sitting in their cozy living room post-dinner, Gram’s cell rang and she went to the catchall table between the kitchen and the living room to check it.
I could see her make a weird face, and then she glanced toward us. Her expression, as she made eye contact with me, told me who was calling.
“Do I take it?” she asked me, even though everyone else had stopped talking and were watching, too.
I sat next to Aunt Regan on the couch, and they reached for my hand and squeezed. I felt choked up.
“She’s your daughter,” I managed to say somehow.
“But she’s not your mother, is she?” Grams asked in her gentlest, most understanding tone.
I burst into tears and shook my head. “No, she can’t be anymore.”
Aunt Regan pulled me against them, and soon Charlie sandwiched me from the other side. I could see Grams put the phone back down without answering it.
Then she wiped her eyes and asked, “How about dessert? I feel like we need some right about now.”
Aunt Regan squeezed me hard, then let go so they could help Grams. Uncle Teague took their place and yeah, his hugs were almost as good as Law’s. Almost.
I worked the days between Christmas and New Years as usual. I had come to enjoy cleaning the Inn and even the monotony of it all. It was weird, knowing that I was having a good time doing the job most people wouldn’t touch with a long pole, but I tried not to let it get to me.
Even while I’d been at college, I hadn’t felt good about it. I didn’t like studying. There was a part of my brain that tried to reject the whole sitting with my nose stuck in a book and then going in and being tested on that cycle.
I enjoyed doing things where I could see the results right after, and cleaning was one of those things. Maybe I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life, but it paid my practically nonexistent bills right now and made me feel productive.
On the thirtieth, I finished cleaning the toilets next to the lobby and opened the door, just to literally run into Law.
I smacked my face against his clavicle, the pain bursting along my nose as I yelped.
He grabbed my shoulders to steady me and pushed me back into the tiled room.
“Let me see. Did you get hurt?” he said, his big hands already cupping my face and examining it with his gaze.
My eyes had watered, a few tears ran down my cheeks and he wiped those off with his thumbs with a practiced motion of a parent. Then he frowned a little.
“How’s your nose feeling?”
“Ouchy?” I replied weakly.
That made him look me in the eyes, amusement dancing in the warm brown depths. “Ouchy?”
“Yes.” I grinned, then winced when it made my nose move. “Look it up; it’s a medical term.”
Law chuckled, then got serious again. “Can I feel it? See if it’s broken?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to feel more pain, but maybe he’d know if I was fucked.
Ever so gently, he grabbed the bridge of my nose, making me hiss as he felt around.
“I think it’s fine. We should go get you some frozen peas or something from Dana, just to make sure it won’t swell much.”
“Okay.” At least it wasn’t broken. “I’ll live to be pretty for another day?” I asked off-handedly.
I’d broken our eye contact, and his stillness made me look back. His expression was… weird. Like he wasn’t sure about something?
Then he snapped out of it and cleared his throat. “Yeah, you definitely will.” He smiled awkwardly, then ducked deeper into the bathroom. “I actually need to pee, but if you leave your cart, I’ll push it to where you need it next if you go get the cold pack?”
