Page 38 of Our Long Days
I throw my arms around him. Nothing beats a hug from my dad, and today, it feels like he hugs me extra tight.
“Does this mean I don’t have to do the dishes?” I mumble into his shirt.
“Not a chance. Get in the house.”
One year later, he was gone.
I go to twist my rings and come up short. They’re lost. Fitting, really. The pain in my chest is excruciating. Each word and letter strikes me through the middle as I read them over and over.
The List of Florence
- Learn how to drive
- Dance in the rain
- Camp under the stars
- Go fishing and catch my dinner
- Watch the sunset from a paddleboard
- Bonfire on the beach
- Get a tattoo
- Watch a movie at a drive-thru theater
- Adopt a pet
- Buy my own house
- Find a love like my parents
“Florence, I’m sorry.” I’d forgotten Booth was here. “I thought it was aletter. We’ve all had letters.”
Months of pent-up frustration and sadness bubbles to the surface. Money problems. Rejection emails. Dad’s anniversary. Even attempting to fight my feelings for Dex. An accumulation of events out of my control. My emotions are as unpredictable as an earthquake, shaking the foundations and knocking me down the moment my feet find purchase.
Every time I get up, it becomes a little harder.
The real kicker? Not a single item is ticked off.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
dexter
Florence has been crying.
It makes me want to drive my fist through a wall.
After she moved in last week, I made sure our paths only crossed during working hours, and every interaction was professional.
It took all my self-restraint to not invite her over for dinner each night. Before New Year’s Eve, I wouldn’t have hesitated in inviting her over. I’m used to eating alone, but maybe she isn’t. Fuck, is that why she’s sad? Saturday night, Booth pulled up outside her cabin, so at least she had company then.
That’s what also bugs me—her being alone. My cabin is a stone’s throw away, yet the idea of her being over there by herself irks me. What if something happens and I can’t hear her? Does she lock the door at night? What is she eating?
Things that don’t concern a boss.
So, with a clenched jaw and the attention span of gnat, I power through my morning, trying to ignore her red-rimmed eyes while she sits feet away.
