Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I didn’t like that one bit. “That’s the last way I want you to feel. I trust you, love.”
She offered a brief smile, but it was filled with trepidation, and there was guilt in her eyes.
She wouldn’t.
I swallowed the dread and prayed I was wrong. “You haven’t contacted him, have you?”
She shook her head, thank fuck. “I think I saw him once, though. In Seattle.”
Fuck.
“I don’t think.” She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “I know I saw him. I thought it was you at first.”
I clenched my jaw and dropped my stare to our hands again. I was squeezing hers a little too tightly, but she made no mention of it. I hadn’t even noticed.
So, she’d seen him. She hadn’t told me about it, because…because due to how others had fucked me over, she knew I was particularly sensitive on the matter. And there was a worry that I might not believe her. That I might believe she’d looked him up on purpose.
I already knew she wanted me to reach out to him again.
“How did he…” My throat closed up. “When—”
“Last year,” she answered. “He was at the airport when I was flying down here to start school.”
Oh.
“He worked there,” she went on carefully. “He wore one of those yellow vests.”
Oh.
So, he wasn’t working in radio anymore?
“My hand—”
“I’m sorry.” I released her hand quickly, but she was just as quick to shake her head and grab my hand again. Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to my knuckles.
“I’m not your mother or your ex-wife, Avery,” she reminded me in a gentle tone. A reminder I didn’t need. She was the opposite of them. “I’m not saying this to hurt you—or because I don’t have faith in your reasoning. But I really think you should contact him again. Without the ‘Hey, brother, if you feel like staying in touch…’ Humans are cowards most of the time. If there’s an excuse, we’ll take it. When we’re scared, we look for the exit.” She straightened again, and she turned my way. The conviction in her gaze was unavoidable. “Don’t give him an exit. Tell him—be honest and tell him that you want him in your life. Share something with him. Tell him about Grace, about me, about your job. Give him a piece of you that he can’t ignore or forget.”
For several beats, I just stared at Elise.
Calling her fearless would minimize the fact that she’d been facing her fears all her life. She wasn’t fearless. She was brave, and she was right. The time I’d reached out to Finn, I’d had one foot inside the bubble of safety in case he didn’t want any contact with me. I hadn’t told him explicitly that I wanted him in my life. I hadn’t put myself out there the way I should have. The way Elise would’ve.
“I’ll contact him.” I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re right.”
She let out a big breath of relief and wrapped her arms around my middle. “I don’t think you’ll regret it,” she murmured. “I’m sure you can find him on social media, but if you need help, Willow’s great at this sort of stuff.”
I kissed the top of her head and hugged her to me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well, you’re not gonna find out.”
Thirty-One
Finn wasn’t on social media, unless he went under another name. Platforms like Twitter would be fruitless to even begin to search, but Facebook was generally a place one used their real name. My own Facebook was a shrine to education, as Elise so eloquently put it. I shared history and civics quizzes, anecdotes and fun facts about political science, and Darius and I tagged each other in various news articles.
There was room for a few pictures of Grace too.
Elise shared photos of her everyday life and countless requests for lives from various games she played.
I preferred the pictures, to be honest.
Looking up at the starry sky, I wished I could share this with her. If not in person, then with a photo, but my camera wasn’t equipped to take nighttime pictures.
I took a deep breath and let the day’s travel wash away. We were on our way back toward the coast after spending a week in Utah and Colorado. Grace was asleep in the car. I’d parked right next to a picnic table at a rest stop, and I was fairly certain I was the only one around for miles, except for the poor schmuck who managed both a gas station and the smallest motel I’d ever laid eyes on.
I wasn’t ready to wake up Grace just yet. She’d been cranky all day and missing Elise.
That was a conversation Elise and I would probably have soon. This summer had turned Pipsqueak into a permanent fixture in Grace’s life, and she noticed when her Lee-Lee was gone. Grace looked for her. Asked for her.