If I had an answer, I’d tell him.
All I know is that today was a good day, and I can’t wait to see Greer tomorrow.
CHAPTER NINE
GREER
How long can a person sit and stare at their new car?
How long is too long?
I rock back on one of the chairs on Simon’s front porch the way I have every day for the past week after Grey and I come back from whatever camp he had that day. Only this time, I can’t take my eyes off my brand-new slate-blue Bronco.
I smile, but it’s a sad smile.
Growing up, my mother worked two jobs to give me everything I wanted. I wasn’t a needy kid by any means, and I was well aware of the situation we were in, so I didn’t cry or fight her when she said no. All I knew was that one day, I’d make sure I worked as hard as she did for my family.
She would be so proud of how far I’ve come. I wish she were here so I could tell her that my work ethic came from her. She’s the reason I set goals and have my own house, a job I love, and a car I bought all on my own.
I’m doing the damn thing, making my dreams happen, but… I don’t have a family to share it with. That one person I get to come home to. The person I share everything with, celebrating something as silly as a new car.
One day.
I hope.
I let out a breath and glance at Grey, who’s writing in a new journal. He asked me earlier about journaling his workouts and what he eats. He wants to pinpoint what it is that makes him feel better on some days and less on others. Who am I to say no to someone who wants to better themselves? So what that he’s a kid, or that by next week he could move on to the next hot trend? Telling him no is hard.
He must sense me watching because he looks up.
“What?” He laughs.
“Nothing. How’s the journal coming?”
“Umm”—he leans back— “a lot less fun than I thought it would be.”
I laugh and move to sit by him.
“This may not be the right thing to say, but it’s something my mom once told me. If it’s not working or you don’t like it, stop and move on. Never quit—just move on to finding what does work.”
Huh, sounds like my dating life.
“So if I decide this sucks, you won’t be mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“You keep a journal, right?”
“I used to.” I tap my temple. “But I store it all up here now. I never stopped; I just found a better way to help myself.”
“I think I might be that kind of person too. Dad writes everything down. I hope he’s okay with me not doing that.”
I give him a side hug and squeeze. “As long as you’re happy, he’s happy. I promise.”
“Can I ask you something?” Grey says, leaning back and crossing his arms. The look he gives me is very serious for a ten-year-old.
“Yes.”
“What do you think of my dad?”
