Page 102 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“You also don’t need law school to be an adult.” She swivels and marches back to the group.

Olivia’s emotional intelligence is as frightening as always. No, I don’t need law to be an adult. I need something steady, though, and Sadie needs the lawyer version of me. Unless E’s right and she only wants it because she thinks I want it, and I’m the one undermining us both by clinging to the last vestiges of the man I was because I don’t trust the guy I’ve become. Maybe the guy I was before WITSEC wouldn’t have been good enough for Sadie in the end. Too self-obsessed. Too insular to propose or make lasting friendships with guys like Kyle. Maybe the man I’ve become is more compassionate. More loving. More aware of the people he loves.

Wading through my mental swamp, I join my hiking group. Sadie and I lock eyes for a second. Immediately her eyes glass over. Mine burn, and my fingers twitch.

Not reaching for her is a physical ache.

Blinking hard, I inhale the post-rain smells of sweet grass and damp earth. If my past eleven years had a scent, this might be it—decay and growth. The unexpected results of WITSEC, like E suggested, and I have been too focused on the negative to see the positive. But there’s no denying the eager faces turned toward me, the way Max nudges Jasmine, whispering something to her, the two of them giggling and smiling.

Another puff of pleasure warms my chest. He’s happier and has new friends because of me. Because I’ve helped orchestrate this hiking program and his joy, building all these kids up along the way, even helping nudge Olivia and her father to reconcile.

Decay and growth.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing all along. Not Duke Law and prestigious credentials. I haven’t allowed myself the room to change. To be a success and a failure and accept that my inside doesn’t have to match my outside.

Breathing through this new awareness, I focus on my group—these great kids who’ve shown me what it truly means to be an adult. “I have something fun planned for our last day.”

“Did you hide pictures of Camila Cabello for us to find?” Jasmine’s still dedicated to achieving fan-club president.

“I did not.”

“Are we sketching animal poop?” Carter snickers. The kid’s obsession with bodily functions will no doubt lead him far in life.

“No sketches today.” I give them my full attention, setting aside my dizzying thoughts for now. “We’re cleaning up trash.”

Their collective groan has birds scattering, but I don’t falter.

Two months ago, at the start of these hikes, their disappointment would have had me berating myself for screwing this up. Today, I stand taller. “Carter, would you like it if I dumped garbage on top of your dad’s Porsche?”

His lips shrivel. “No.”

I turn to Zoey and Jasmine. “Would it be cool if someone dumped garbage on Camila Cabello’s house?”

“Oh my God.” Jasmine gasps in horror. “No freaking way.”

Zoey repeats the same omg-gasp-no-freaking-way routine.

“Max.” I smile at my sensitive son, who’s quieter today than usual. “Would it be as fun drawing scenery if it’s covered in litter?”

He shakes his head.

“Jun, what would happen if I dumped garbage in your yard, where your adorable new dog hangs out?”

He cringes. “Newton eats everything. Even poop.”

Carter cracks up. The girls roll their eyes.

“And he might get sick,” I say, then I zero in on my personal psychoanalyst, Olivia. “How much trash do Americans toss in a single day?”

She opens her mouth then closes it, frowning, probably shocked she doesn’t have this statistic on the tip of her tongue.

Suck on that, mini Freud. “One point four billion tons. In case any of you are wondering, that’s a lot, and this forest is a dumping ground for careless people. The beautiful land you’ve used all summer is getting disrespected regularly. So think of this forest as your Porsche. It’s Camila Cabello’s house and your artistic inspiration and the woods where Newton and lots of other animals hang out. It’s precious and fragile, and we’re gonna do our part keeping it alive and healthy, so we can hike here for years to come.”

Their pinched faces clear. I get a few nods.

“Also, whoever collects the most trash gets the bag of candy I’ve stashed in my car. It’s as big as a horse.”

As expected, they explode into motion, grabbing bags and gloves and pick-up sticks in a flurry of darting arms. Carter and Jun fight with the sticks like they’re lightsabers. They of course make pew-pew sounds. Max and Zoey and Jasmine and Olivia are already zooming around like two-footed hoovers, snatching up scattered paper and cigarette butts near the trailhead trash cans.