Samson smiled, and nodded, relieved. “All that sounds good. Bonus: you’ll get Harris off your back for a while.”
“Godsend. Can you imagine growing up with that ass—” Dean stopped, gestured, and waited until Samson cupped his palms over the oblivious baby’s ears. “Asshole,” he whispered.
Samson smoothed Miley’s fuzzy hair. “I don’t have to imagine it. I basically grew up with both of you.”
“So you did.” A half-reminiscing, half-regretful smile played over Dean’s face. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, man, retiring so early. After I retired, I felt... I don’t know if I can describe it.”
Samson could describe it. “Aimless and trapped?”
Dean snapped his fingers. “Yes! Exactly that. I didn’t know you could feel both those things at once.”
Joe had been the one to guide Samson out of his immediate post-retirement funk.Son, I know what it’s like to go from being a part of a pack to being alone.His uncle had coaxed him out of the house, gone on runs with him, had helped ease him from that regimented life to solitary retirement. “Neither did I, until it happened.”
Dean nodded, thoughtful. “Yeah. At least I was somewhat prepared. You got shoved into retirement.”
Samson hated the tinge of guilt in Dean’s voice. “I’m fine with my decisions. And yeah, it was tough for a time, but I had you and Harris and most importantly, I had Uncle Joe. Not long after, he got sick.” Samson shrugged. “I didn’t have much time to worry about anything else then.”
Dean’s gaze was sympathetic. “Big Joe was kind of like your Miley, huh?”
Samson almost jerked back, but then he remembered the baby in his arms. “What do you mean?”
“He gave you a purpose. Distracted you from your own feelings.” Dean’s expression turned contemplative.
“My uncle wasn’t a distraction.” His words were sharper than he intended, but he’d be damned if anyone considered his uncle anything but a whole human in his own right, sickness or no.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you had someone other than yourself and your feelings to think about. It’s not a bad thing. People like you and I, we function better when we can focus on a team objective over a soloone.” Dean leaned over and pulled out a round blue plastic snack container from his daughter’s diaper bag. At the sight of it, Miley bounced in Samson’s lap. “Do you want some cereal, angel?” Dean crooned, and opened the container, setting it next to Samson’s empty plate. “Check out that pincer grip, will you? She’s so advanced. Gonna be a surgeon, this one.”
Samson pretended to admire whatever a pincer grip was, but his brain was occupied. When Uncle Joe had gotten sick, he’d sat Samson down on the deck of his home.Your aunt badgered me into going to the doctor, and it’s not good.
Almost a decade later, he could vividly recall the bolt of fear that had run through him at the news, the trauma of his father’s decline far too fresh. It had been Joe who had consoled Samson. Joe who had suggested Samson come live with him and take care of him. At the time, Samson hadn’t questioned it, they were each other’s closest living relatives, it made sense.
But now, he wondered if it was because Uncle Joe, even in the midst of his own fear and uncertainty, had known what Samson needed even if he didn’t.
A lump of quiet grief rose up in his throat. “You’re right.” He moved his fork out of the baby’s range. “I didn’t feel so aimless so long as it was me and Uncle Joe against the illness. When he passed away, I guess it was like I was lost all over again.”
“I’m glad you got the Matchmaker gig.”
“Me too.” He could help Annabelle. Be a part of another team.
Dean’s voice was gentle and compassionate. “What are you going to do when it’s over?”
When he stopped seeing Rhi. When he had no one to help and nothing to show up for. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
Dean immediately backed off. “I gotcha. Sorry, man.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
Their waitress popped up, and Samson was so relieved at the interruption, his smile might have been larger than it would have otherwise been.
“Gentlemen, how’s everything going?”
“Everything’s great, thanks,” Dean said, but the waitress didn’t look at him.
She beamed at Samson. “You’re that guy from those Crush ads, aren’t you?”
“The Matchmaker ads,” he corrected her.
She waved her hand. “Yeah. Your videos are so cute.”
