Thankfully, I learned a long time ago not to listen to that little voice, the one that leads me to drink, to quiet its painful whispers with whiskey and beer. I brush Sarah’s hair from her face and wipe away the single tear trailing down her cheek. “I never told you my dad died when I was twenty-three, right in the middle of the worst of my drinking.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her words are reflexive and I shush them away.
“I never got to say goodbye to him. Never got to tell him about this job. Or thank him for giving me the background that led me to a career I love. He and I were never as close as I wanted us to be. I kept thinking there was time for all that later. That I could focus on my life now and then really show him what he meant to me later. Really find a way to build the relationship I always wanted. Then a car accident took him from us. The time was up, just like that.” I snap my fingers for emphasis, lost in the memories of the phone call from Chet. The sinking feeling of irrevocable loss. The realization that time is precious and life changes in the blink of an eye and the most important bits are also the simplest. “Go to him, Sarah. Go to your dad. Talk to him if you want to, but more importantly, just be there.”
Sarah nods, those ice blue eyes locked on mine as someone walks past us, talking loudly into his phone, pausing to lift a hand and smile on his way to the elevator. “I don’t want to have this conversation here,” Sarah says when he’s gone.
I draw her into my arms and run my hands up her shoulders. “Then let’s get out of here. It’s basically quitting time, anyway. We’ll go to my place and sort everything out.”
I’ve already come to the conclusion that she needs to go back home to Ohio. She needs to be with her family. She needs a chance to talk to her dad in case the worst happens. It’s the best thing for her. Even if it ends up being the worst thing for me.
Sarah nods, then takes a moment to collect herself before swiping her phone and her pills off the desk and tossing them into her purse. After she slides her chair into place, I wrap an arm around her shoulder and hold her close as we work our way out from behind her desk, stopping short when we come face to face with Bree, her arms crossed, her eyes wild.