Then I forced myself to read it again and again until I could see what Georgia saw. See past what I know to be the truth and picture shit from her eyes.
Eyes that don’t know reality because I never opened my goddamn mouth and gave it to her.
All I wanted was to protect her from something ugly when she’s already lived enough of it, but by doing so, I kept her in the dark, the last place she ever should have been.
The screen door creaks and closes behind me, and I don’t look up until a cold beer lands in my palm.
“Thought you could use that,” Griffin says, dropping down into the chair beside mine.
He’s quiet for a minute. Just lets the silence wrap around us like he knows how close to the edge I am.
“I get it now,” I murmur when the quiet starts to grate at my nerves.
“Get what?”
I tip the bottle to my lips, swallow hard. “Why my dad didn’t start dreamin’ big until after he met my mom.”
He nods once, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
I stare out at the land stretching wide in front of me. “What’s the point of buildin’ all this if you’re doin’ it alone?”
Griff doesn’t answer right away. He just watches me for a long beat before quietly saying, “You’re not alone, though.”
I scoff. “I know I’ve got my family.”
“And a daughter,” he adds.
I nod, my eyes flicking to the monitor. She’s peaceful. Curled up in her crib, arms around that little bear I got her months ago that she won’t sleep without. She’s safe and home and mine, but still missing a piece she doesn’t understand yet.
“And your friends,” Griff tacks on, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. “But that’s not who I meant.”
I swallow hard, my throat raw.
I can’t cry anymore.
Can’t break anymore.
There’s nothin’ left in me that hasn’t already been shattered.
“She’s in town,” I whisper. “Somewhere close. But I’ve never felt so far from someone in my life.”
Only know she didn’t pack up and move back to New York because she’s still quietly putting finishing touches on the Honey Bea Bash. From what I’ve gathered around town, she’s doing it all from home, telling people she’s really sick, but not letting up on the event.
Whole thing pisses me off and makes me want to cry all over again.
“She loves you,” Griff says plainly.
“Then why’d she leave?”
“Because she’s scared.”
I shake my head. “We’re all scared. Love is fuckin’ terrifying.”
He gives me a long, hard look. “Did you tell her that?”
“What?” I snap. “That love is hard? That it’s messy and unfair and asks too much of you? I think she knows, man.”
He tilts his head. “That you love her.”
