Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“That’s why you do the work you do?”
“Part of it.” It was more than a little uncanny how much he saw despite having been gone so long. “Maybe in the beginning, it was for Sienna’s memory, but these days, it’s more about hope.”
“Ah. This is where you tell me everything happens for a reason, right?” Mouth twisting, he knelt to pet Buttercup, who had been getting increasingly antsy, undoubtedly picking up on the intense emotions.
“No, this is where I tell you about Mitzi, who had a baby at fourteen and spiraled into bad postpartum depression after the adoption was finalized. Or Kyle, who struggled with anxiety from elementary school onward with his symptoms worsening as his social isolation increased.” I paced as I talked, my voice picking up speed as I warmed to my favorite topic. “Then there was Jeff, who, like so many of our teens, had an abusive family situation. The sort of trauma I hear about on the regular isn’t in anyone’s plan. There’s no underlying positive purpose for mental illness or emotional trauma. But what I have seen, over and over, is that help brings hope. All those kids later became success stories.”
“Emphasis on kids.” Worth rubbed his temples before he straightened. “And your work is amazing. Truly. I’m proud of you. But I’m forty.”
“Lucky for you, there’s no age limit on therapy and medication. But you have to want to get better. That’s the key ingredient I see over and over. Not that wanting alone is enough, but you have to be committed to trying various options to find what works for you. It’s not an easy road, but it is…”
“Worth it. Pun intended,” Worth finished for me with a weak smile. “I get it. Want’s not the issue. More like, it’s hard to believe any sort of help might work. Success story…” Shaking his head, he sank onto the edge of the bed. “I’m attempting to picture what success would even look like for me.”
“Success is Mitzi being the best barista my Portland friend, Brady, says he’s ever hired. Success is Kyle running a popular Odyssey card game play group, finally having a crew of trusted friends, and being well on his way to a college degree. Success is Jeff being an amazing dad to two little girls.” I gestured widely, but my enthusiasm wasn’t as infectious as I’d hoped.
Still frowning, Worth lifted Buttercup to his lap when she head-butted his legs. “That sounds more like returning someone to what or who they were before. I’m not sure I have that baseline. I’ve carted around these dark emotions for so long that I forget others don’t have to pretend the same way.”
“Always? Like even as a kid?” I prodded, coming to sit next to him on the bed. I hated the thought of the smiling, helpful teen he’d once been being an illusion.
“Sometimes.” Worth shrugged, popping that image I’d had of him as happy, popular, and without a care in the world until his mom disappeared. “I’ve always had moods. Mom complained…” He dropped his damp head onto my shoulder, and I had to suppress the startled noise that rose in my throat. “She called me her Eeyore. I’m good at faking it, being Mr. Congeniality, the deal closer, the hard worker, the loyal friend, but it really does feel like I wear this heavy cape of sadness that others don’t have to.”
“I’m sorry.” Unbidden, my arm wrapped around his too-bony shoulders. “You’re right. It sucks that others don’t have to deal with the same burden. And then fate went and dealt you a rotten hand.”
“Not sure it was fate.” His voice was bitter, but his breath was warm against my neck, contrasting the cool dampness of his hair on my collarbone. I was holding Worth Stapleton. My abs trembled. He smelled like my shampoo and fit as perfectly against me as I’d always known he would. Of course, back then, I’d imagined him holding me, but this way felt right, old desires rearranging themselves to fit my adult reality of who we both were now. And if Worth needed propping up, I could be as good at the job as the oak tree he loved so much.
Unsure what he needed to hear, I simply held him tighter.
“Sorry,” he mumbled several long moments later. “I’ve had good moments too. Not a constant parade of horrible, I promise.”
“Tell me a good memory,” I urged.
“Peggy Jane’s retirement party.” Lifting his head, Worth twisted his lips into something that might have been the start of a smile. “I had this longtime administrative assistant at the brokerage. She retired to Tucson long before this embezzlement bullshit. Ours wasn’t the kind of office with spontaneous parties and such, but I always tried to treat the support staff in my department well.”