I tried my best to fill his shoes when he died.
I probably tried too hard.
Because if I’m honest with myself, I’m fucking exhausted.
And my feet hurt from forcing them into someone else’s shoes and feeling like I always came up short.
“Don’t you ever relax?” Haley asks as I time our rest stop.
No, I don’t. I’m fucking compulsive like that.
“Every minute we spend getting gas or snacks is one less minute I get to be with my daughter.” I pay for an energy bar and gesture to Haley to put her bag of chips on the counter.
She begrudgingly agrees with a thank you. “I must get quicker in order to beat you to the cashier.”
I chuckle.
As we leave the store, Haley says, “I get that you don’t want to miss any time with Lulu. I do. But I thought you chose to take a road trip so you could have some Liam time. Not as a dad or a brother but just for you.”
“That was the plan,” I agree.
“And I get the feeling you’re always like this. On the clock.”
I shake my head, effectively ending her line of questioning.
But as I take the wheel and we pull out of the rest area, I say to her, “You’re right.”
I sense rather than see her surprise. She covers well by seemingly changing the subject. But I know her well enough by now to realize she’s just circling around the same topic.
“Look, you turned pro early so your brothers could stay kids as long as they could.”
I never had someone point it out to me like that.
“I told you that I did it so they could go to college.”
“You did say that. But I think you also did it so they could keep any vestige of innocence they had left for a little longer too.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “That’s no doubt true.”
Her hand is warm where it lands on my shoulder. She pats my shoulder a few times before removing her hand.
I immediately miss her touch on me.
I crave it.
“Do you think they’re aware of the toll that it took on you?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and for a moment, I’m not certain she’s even speaking to me.
I glance over at her. Her face has gone pale, and suddenly, I don’t think we’re just talking about me.
“As much as they can,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think your sister gets it at all?” I ask her. “What you do to try to keep her head above water?”
“I truly don’t think she has a clue,” she says. “Back when we were younger, she seemed to have more of an awareness of life in general. She would say how much she appreciated all that I did for her. But now…it’s like she’s checked out in the emotion department. All she does is judge me.”
“Which is ironic when she’s the one making mistakes.”
