Page 46 of Breaking Free

“Adam asked me to marry him two nights ago. I said yes!” she exclaims. “I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want it to hurt you, but now that J.R. has finally grown a set and asked you to marry him, I can share my news!”

“Wait. Adam? Seriously?” I’m only partially shocked. Kelley had tried to pretend like she wasn’t that into him, but Kelley has never given second chances to bad dates either.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, embarrassed. “We haven’t set a date yet or anything.”

I hug my friend, “We’re finally getting married.” I laugh as I hug her.

Kelley laughs, too. “Two old hens.”

***

Knox and I walk J.R. to the door. He’s got four weeks’ worth of luggage in his hands, and neither of us is ready for him to leave. Four weeks feels like a lifetime, but I had to assure Knox that the time would go by quickly. I call it assurance. Kelley calls it a lie. It doesn’t go quickly. It’ll be the longest four weeks of our lives.

J.R. kneels in front of Knox. He smiles at her; but she looks at him with big, sad, blue eyes.

“I’ll be home before you can miss me,” he says confidently.

“I already miss you,” she responds in a soft tone, and my heart breaks a little.

“I’ll call you. Everyday.”

“Promise?” she asks.

“Cross my heart. I love you.”

“Me, too.” Knox shuffles her feet a little. “I wish I could come with you.”

“Maybe when you’re a little older. I promise.”

I briefly envision my little Knox at one of J.R. shows, caught in the middle of a mosh pit, hearing words come from people’s mouths that she should never hear. I am quickly horrified.

Knox wraps her arms around J.R., and then she kisses his cheek. J.R. stands up and looks at me.

“You know the drill,” he says.

“I know the drill. This time, I’ll be here when you come home.”

“Promise?” He smiles.

“Cross my heart,” I say, and then I kiss him.

“I love you,” he says, his lips still close to mine.

“I love you. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

Outside, a car horn beeps, and it’s J.R.’s cab, here to pick him up and carry him to the airport. J.R. pulls his guitar case across his back, lifts his duffle bag with one hand, and grabs the handle of his rolling suitcase with the other. I open the door for him and watch as he moves down the steps and to the cab. Knox and I stand on the porch, our arms by our sides, and I’m positive that we’re probably the two saddest females in the world right now. J.R. tosses his stuff into the trunk, and then he looks back at us before stepping into the cab. We wave at him, and then the cab is gone.

I don’t cry, but I want to. I rest my hand on Knox’s head. “We know how to live without your dad, remember?” I ask her.

“Yeah, but now I know that I can’t live without him.” She turns away from me and into the house. Sometimes, I think Knox is older than she is.

“The good news is that he’ll be back,” I say, following her back into the house and closing the door behind us. “This is what we must do. For your dad. He loves sharing his music, and we shouldn’t make him feel guilty for leaving. So, when he has to leave, we give him a kiss, a hug, a wave, and a smile.”

“And then when he’s gone, we can cry?” she asks.

“Yes, then we can cry,” I say warmly.

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