Only, that’s so brutally honest the lie stalls in my lungs.
“What am I supposed to do?” I whisper. “He doesn’t open up. He’s kinda stuck on his ex, I think, and he won’t give his heart a chance.”
Hattie purrs her sympathy.
“Oh, that’s a tough one. I dunno, maybe the only thing you can do is put some distance between you? Let him work it out. Give him space. You can’t do much else.”
Wise, unwanted words.
“Yeah,” I say once I’ve gotten my voice back. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Will you be okay, though? Do you need me to fly up there?”
“No!” I clear my throat, catching myself. “No, it’s fine. I’m not sure I’ll stick around much longer anyway. You know me. I’m always okay.”
“You alwayspretendyou’re okay,” she says seriously. “Just call me if you need me, m’kay? Anytime. I’ll always pick up for you.”
“I love you.”
“Love you more.” She blows a kiss through the line and I disconnect, fighting the lump in my throat. My eyes sting.
Space, space.
Oh my God, just give him space.
Exactly what I was afraid she’d say.
You can’t do much else.
I know.
Just like I’m painfully aware I’ve fallen into a self-baited trap, trying to fix a man who has to fix himself.
But right now, space feels like total isolation.
It’s bigger and colder than the gulf between stars.
18
HOUSE DIVIDED (KANE)
The night is a window to a dark ocean called eternity.
There’s barely a cloud obscuring the stars, blinking lighthouses on shores we’ll never see.
Out here with the kids, my worries should be just as distant, even though they’re really just a few feet away.
I can’t dwell on that.
Not with Sophie peering through her telescope, mapping what she can with her stargazing app.
Dan has his drum pad outside, tapping out an old Van Halen song with his headphones on. The kid’s got good taste, all thanks to yours truly.
It should be peaceful. Quiet. Clear.
And I really am trying my damnedest to be present and listen to my fatherly instincts.
“Hey, Dad? You awake?” Sophie snaps her fingers in front of my face.
