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“I love what I do,” Tom countered passionately. “I get to help people.”

“Which is seriously great, but at what cost? How much longer can you do this until you finally snap?”

“I don’t know,” Tom mumbled, trying to keep up his spirit and finding his fire burning out fast.

“You need to put yourself in a really positive place, somewhere you can still do what you love but without it hurting you,” Cypress soothed.

“I don’t think a place like that exists,” Tom said sadly. “This is it. This is the funeral business. This is how it is. It’s part of the job. You miss out on holidays with your family and all the birthdays and ball games because you’ve gotta work. It’s not like we ever close, you know. So, we work and work—”

“Yeah, until you fuckin’ burn out. I’m not letting that happen to you. I don’t care if it’s what Mr. Crosby and Gerald have done for generations. It’s bullshit.” Cypress took his hand.

“I know.” Tom sighed. “I don’t think it’s ever going to change.”

“Well, if you can’t change the business, you have to focus on what you can change.You. You can either change how you deal with the stress, or you quit before it eats you up.”

“I actually feel like…” Tom tried to find the right words. “What we do together… is a good stress relief.”

“Sure, it can be emotionally rewarding and help you work out some stress, but as long as the source of the stress remains, it’s gonna keep coming back.”

“I can’t just quit,” Tom insisted. “They’d need to find another embalmer, and they’re already gonna be short-staffed when they lose Junior.” He laced his fingers with Cypress’s. “I’m not saying no, I guess I’m saying… not right now.”

“I’m not letting this go.”

“You really think you know what’s best for me?” Tom snorted indignantly.

“I do,” Cypress replied without hesitation. “You’re too close to it, Tom. You were more worried about some guy not having enough sleep than your own life being in danger.”

“Okay, now you’re making me sound dumb.”

Cypress shrugged, unable to resist a little smile. “Hey, you said it. Not me.”

“Asshole.”

Cypress began to laugh, protesting, “I’m just agreeing with you.”

Tom laughed as he sank onto the couch. “I really am, aren’t I? I let them suck me in, over and over again.”

“It’s okay, but you gotta break the cycle. You have to find a way to get out of this loop.”

“Yeah. Easier said than done.”

“How about for now let’s focus on you keeping your happy little ass away from the damn funeral home?” Cypress kissed his hand. “First day of your vacation, and you went right fuckin’ back.”

“And got roped into taking call,” Tom muttered.

“How does that work exactly? You wait until they call you?”

“Yeah, we work in teams of three every night. The funeral directors, Aaron, Gerald, Mr. Crosby, and Junior, rotate taking calls from our answering service. If they get a first call, a death call, they call whoever is first up for removals. Depending on where the deceased is at, the first up person calls the second up person for help.”

“Like what?”

“Like at a house or assisted living. If it’s a hospital, they won’t call the second up. Maybe if it’s a big deceased person, but it’s Bosco tonight.”

“Is he the giant Hispanic guy? Never talks?”

“That’s him. And he does talk, well, but not very much. He won’t call me for anything unless he absolutely has to. I think he would do house calls by himself if Gerald would let him.”

“So,” Cypress mused, “you may not go out at all.”