“I don’t hate it.”
“You don’t love it,” he counters.
“It’s practical.”
“Ah yes.” He plucks a piece of asparagus from a serving plate and takes a bite. “Practicality. The great romance of our time.”
I shoot him a glare. Mom cuts the chicken and doesn’t look up when she says, “Practical is good. Until it costs you everything your heart needs.”
Bennett whistles, reaching for a plate. “She’s got a point.’
“Of course I do,” she says, smiling. “I’ve lived long enough to know the price we pay for settling.”
I survey the feast Mom provided, suddenly tired.
“I’m not settling,” I say, filling a plate and having a seat at the table. “I’m trying to build something solid. A life Lucy can come back to.”
Mom slides into the seat across from me. “Sweetheart, if you crush yourself in the process, what’s the point?”
Well ouch, Mom. Isn’t compromise and sacrifice part of a good relationship?
I push my food around my plate, not ready to answer out loud.
“How are things going between you two?” Bennett asks, more gently now.
“We talk,” I say with a sigh. “Every night we can. Text when we can’t. But time zones suck, and her schedule’s insane. Last night she video called me from a hallway in some random stadium with a bowl of dry cereal in her hand. She looked like she’d been crying but swore she was just tired.”
“You tell her you miss her?” Mom asks.
“Of course.” I furrow my brow because how could I not tell her that? She’s the only thing I think about. “She said she misses me too.”
“But neither of you says anything beyond that,” Bennett adds, cutting a bite of chicken and shoving it into his mouth like we’re talking about something as banal as the weather.
“Lucy is living her dream,” I say. “She worked hard for this. Lost it, then managed to get it back. Who am I to say or do anything to make her second-guess her decision?”
“She’s not a kid, Nash.” Bennett sits back in his chair. “We’re the same age and they gave me a gun and a badge. They even trust me to decide what to do with them all bymyself. If Lucy’s second-guessing something, she probably has a reason.”
“She sounded tired,” I admit. “Not just physically. Like… soul tired.”
Mom leans forward. “Then bring it to God.”
I raise a brow. “You think he cares about video calls and bad rehearsal schedules?”
“I think he cares about you,” she says simply. “About the ache in your chest you’ve been trying to pretend isn’t there. Maybe he won’t fix the problem how you want, or when you want, but he’ll fix the problem. At the very least, you won’t be the only one looking for a solution.”
Bennett shrugs and shoves a bite of chicken into his mouth.
I look for a graceful way to change the subject and am grateful when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Normally, I’d leave it be at the dinner table, but with Lucy’s schedule…
I pull it out, smiling when her name lights up the screen.
“I gotta take this,” I say, already standing. “She only gets a few minutes before call time.”
My mother and brother make shooing motions as I accept the call and step onto the porch.
“Hey,” I breathe, and I swear it’s the first time I’ve felt whole since the last time I talked to her.
The sky is deepening into that pre-sunset glory of gold and pink, but it’s nothing compared to Lucy’s face filling the screen. She’s in yet another hallway, sweat on her brow, flyaway hairs stuck to hercheek.
