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I’d heard the words so many times when counseling was a regular part of my life. No matter how many times I heard them, it didn’t make them true.
If I hadn’t gone to Stanford, things would’ve turned out entirely differently. Maybe if we’d been at the game that night, he wouldn’t have gotten injured.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said, moving his arm so I could stand. I went into the house and upstairs. When I came back down, Lynx was sitting at the table, talking to my dad.
“Rough morning?” my father asked when I joined them. He held his hand out to me.
“Thinking about Ricky.”
“It’s my fault,” said Lynx. “I asked Emerson about her childhood, and one thing led to another.”
“Nothing is anyone’s fault. In fact, it’s a word we don’t use in our house. If we did, we’d never be able to move on with our lives. Instead of losing one precious life, we’d lose four, because no one in our family would truly be living.”
It wasn’t the first time my father had said something like that. It reminded me of how yesterday morning, Lynx had asked me to consider how sad it would be if everyone stopped living their life whenever there was some kind of crisis.
Sometimes, though, it was impossible not to get mired down in the sadness of it all.
Without Stephenand Nora at the house, the rest of the day was quiet. Too quiet. When my mother suggested a change of scenery would do us good, I agreed wholeheartedly.
We spent the afternoon in town, shopping, and then having drinks and dinner at one of my favorite bayside restaurants. When Lynx reached over and took my hand under the table, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And then, when we returned to the house, we fell asleep on the daybed like we had the night before.
When I wokethe next morning, I knew I couldn’t spend another day like yesterday. It was going to be far too difficult when Lynx left as it was. The more I got used to him being around, doing things like holding my hand during dinner, the more heartbroken I’d be when it was time for both of us to return to our lives back in the real world.
23
LYNX
“Ifeel like it’s time I returned to work,” Emerson said when I opened my eyes and found her sitting next to me with a cup of coffee in hand.
“Your magical summer holiday is at an end?”
Emerson bit her bottom lip; it was her worry tell. “At the very minimum, I should check in.”
When she went inside, I rang Decker.
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
“Haven’t you been in communication with Z?”
“Of course I have, asshole. I’m just giving you shit. What’s up?”
“Emerson is talking about returning to the office.”
“Is there any reason she shouldn’t?”
Not any I could think of. As long as she understood that she would still have security detail, whether it was me personally or someone else, like Angel, for example.
“What about Warrick? What was he still doing there the other day?” It occurred to me that I’d never called Copeland to discuss having Irish reassigned.
“I’m glad you brought that up.”
“Go on.”
“Something felt off, so I put a tail on him yesterday. You’ll never guess where he went—MIT.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but he was there all day.”
