Easton tried to speak, but no words came out. He swallowed, tried again, and croaked, “But what if it’s too soon?”
“Grief doesn’t come with a clock,” Sam replied. “Neither does love. What matters is the direction you’re moving, not the pace.”
At a total loss for words, Easton swallowed.
“I think Danny is your tide.”
His vision blurred for just a second.
“You’re not trying to replace Wilbert.” Sam wiggled his ankle. “You’re trying to move forward. That’s not betrayal. That’s human.”
Easton nodded slowly. The movement was stiff, as if his neck had forgotten how to loosen.
“He sees me a certain way,” Easton murmured. “As strong. Steady. Good. I don’t know if I am.”
“Then let him show you.”
The quiet wrapped around Easton like a weighted blanket.
“You’re not stepping into Wilbert’s shoes,” Sam added. “You’re stepping into your own.”
Easton leaned back in the chair, arms loose, tension bleeding out of his shoulders inch by inch. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself until this very moment.
“Thank you,” he said as he rose, and meant it.
“Anytime.” Sam offered a tranquil smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”
As Easton stepped out of Sam’s office, the late afternoon buzz had taken over. Snippets of music drifted from somewhere in the distance, and he could hear Erika chatter with new arrivals at the desk.
Two Littles darted down the hallway, laughter bubbling as they chased something round and red that skittered ahead of them.
“Hey. No running,” Easton said, but too late. They were already past him, giggles fading around the corner. His voice hadn’t even sounded firm. Not like it should.
He was contemplating going after them when a service submissive in a crisp pastel uniform pushed a cart past him, the scent of peanut butter and apple slices trailing in its wake. She dipped her head respectfully. He nodded back, absently, though his mind wasn’t in the hallway anymore.
He paused by the gift shop. The window was cheerful and overfilled with cuddly stuffies, sippy cups, and a giant plush unicorn someone had dressed in a tiny jean jacket. It was adorable.
Some other time, he might have gone in and bought the animal for Danny, but the warmth it usually sparked in him was muted today.
So, he didn’t go in.
Back to the apartment? Too quiet. Too still. Danny wouldn’t be there. He was at the nursery, enjoying his third day in the Butterfly Program.
His steps turned across the hall before he realized where they were taking him. Derek’s office.
He stopped.
No. He didn’t need more advice. Not today.
Instead, he turned toward the large doors and stepped outside.
The cold slapped him the second the door closed behind him. His thin shirt did nothing to block the wind, and a shiver rolled down his spine. He stood on the porch a moment, shoulders hunched against the chill, debating whether to turn around and spare himself the bite of the air.
The walkways had been cleared, but old snow still clung to the edges in gritty gray piles, melting slowly in the pale winter sun. A gust kicked up the scent of woodsmoke and horses, and somewhere in the distance, someone laughed.
Easton exhaled, the breath turning white as it hit the air, and started moving. His feet crunched against salt-scattered gravel as he took the first step, unsure where he was headed, only that he didn’t want to be still.
For the first time in months, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d lost.
