“I promise.”
Darcy studied me for a long time, like he wasn’t sure he could believe me. How many people had let him down in life? Boy, I knew what that was like.
“How come you’re not a cop anymore?”
I shifted in my seat, scanned the street in both directions, and rubbed a hand over my roughly stubbled jaw. Tallus hadn’t arrived. Where the fuck was he? I would have loved avoiding the question, but like the previous night, opening up to Darcy didn’t feel as hard as it did with other people. Uncomfortable, yes, but on some level, I felt like I was proving to him that your past didn’t have to define you. I was nobody’s role model, but maybe I could pass along a few lessons, so he didn’t make the same mistakes.
“I have anger issues. In those days, I didn’t control my emotions very well. Got my ass in trouble a lot. I quit before they could fire me.”
“Oh.” The heat of his attention stripped me raw. I stared ahead, waiting for the Jetta to appear so we could move on with our night.
My father spent years beating emotions out of me until all that was left was anger. At myself. At the world. At everyone who didn’t understand. My therapist taught me how to cope with the shattered remains of my childhood, but it was Tallus who helped me discover that happiness was a thing I could feel. A thing I deserved.
Streetlights shone in puddles on the asphalt. Cars zipped by in both directions. A hazy, muddy-orange ceiling hung above the city, a cloud of smog and light pollution. Not a star to be seen.
I thought of fishing on a quiet lake, far from civilization.
I thought of fresh air and sunshine on my face.
Solitude.
Peace.
No pressure.
A man who called meson.
“Are you better now?” The question came out tentatively.
I was about to say no. It was instinctual. Reflexive. But it wasn’t true. Years of therapy and a shit load of determination had taken me farther than I ever thought possible. I wasn’t the same person I was ten years ago. Hell, I wasn’t the same person as I was two years ago.
I slowly nodded. “I’m getting there. One day at a time, kid. That’s all you can do. No sense living in the past, but honestly, I have a long way to go yet.”
“Because of your dad?”
A lump formed in my throat. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Okay.”
Darcy bounced a knee, and when Echo poked her head between the seats, he moved to pet her but stopped, likely recalling my earlierwarning that Echo was working and he could only pet her when she didn’t have her vest on.
I nuzzled Echo and told her to lie down, that Tallus would be there soon. She obeyed without hesitation.
Darcy turned around in his seat to look at her. “She’s good at listening.”
“She’s well trained. Went to special puppy school.”
“Why do you have a support dog?”
“PTSD. I have a hair-trigger temper, and I’m prone to panic attacks. She keeps an eye on me, reminds me to breathe.”
“Isn’t PTSD a war thing? Did you serve?”
“No. It can arise from experiencing any sort of trauma. In my case, a childhood of severe abuse and neglect.”
“Oh.” Darcy seemed to know better than to bring up my father again, but I sensed him examining the scars on my face and my disfigured ear. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. Understatement of the century.”
