Page 125 of Sparking Sara

“I’m just eager to get home,” I say. “There’s something I need to do.”

“Or someone,” he jokes.

I laugh. “Yeah, that, too.”

~ ~ ~

When I arrive back home at the townhouse, Denver has company.

“Sara Francis, this is Brett Cash and his son, Leo. Brett and I work together. He’s a lieutenant on Squad 13.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say to Brett, but my eyes are on his son. “Leo is adorable. How old is he?”

“Eighteen months.”

“You and your wife are very lucky.”

Brett shakes his head. “It’s just me.”

I mentally smack myself in the head. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Long story.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” I ask. “I’m not a very good cook, but I can order some mean takeout.”

“We’d like that. Thank you.”

“Brett and I have something to show you,” Denver says, pulling me towards the basement. “Come on.”

He leads me downstairs, and now I understand why Denver didn’t go with me to therapy. A corner of the basement has been transformed into an art studio.Myart studio. Right down to the old front door.

I came down here last night when Denver gave me a tour of the townhouse. The basement is huge, just like the rest of the place. It’s basically one large open space with separate areas for a home gym, a conversation corner with a couch and a chair, and a wood shop. I had never seen so many wooden butterflies in my life. Denver explained that woodworking is Sawyer’s hobby.

I cover my mouth in amazement. I knew he said I could paint here, but I never imagined him setting up an entire studio for me. “This is what you did all day?”

Denver puts an arm around my shoulder. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

“It’s perfect,” I say, turning into him for a hug. Then I look over his shoulder and see Brett looking at us sadly. “Thank you, Brett.”

“My pleasure,” he says, still holding his son. “Your paintings are amazing, Sara. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” I look at Leo. “You did all of this with a toddler in tow?”

“Ivy came over with her daughter. She watched the kids while we moved your stuff.”

“I’ll have to thank her, too,” I say.

“You’ve gotten close, haven’t you?” Denver asks.

I spent quite a bit of time with Ivy after my release from the rehab center. She’s become a good friend. “Yes, we have.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad you have friends. Real friends.”

“Me, too.”

I can’t help but think of Lydia, and I promise myself I’ll call her later tonight and catch her up on everything that’s happened in the past few days. We’ve had lunch a few times since the day she came to see me at the apartment. And I’ve painted a picture of her. Of us—the way I remember us in high school when it was us against the world. I plan on giving it to her for Christmas.

Leo starts to fuss in Brett’s arms. Brett puts him down and Leo proceeds to run into an easel, knocking over a painting. Then Leo picks up a paintbrush out of a pail on the floor and pretends to paint on the wall with it.

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