There was a moment of silence and then, “No. I couldn’t dream up a better man for you.” He hesitated. “But Copper’s fucked up, baby. He’s still so messed up from what he did to his father, and what happened to him in those critical first years in prison, that I don’t think he’ll make this easy for you.”
I’d sensed that from the beginning.
That’s probably why I left in the first place, if I were being honest.
It hadn’t had anything to do with putting a damper in his personal life, and everything to do with me not being ready to do what it would take to help a man like Copper cope.
I’d been screwed up myself, who was I to try to fix a man like Copper?
Was I even ready now?
Holt screeched and reached for my coffee again, and I smiled and stilled when I saw today’s note.
How had I missed it until now?
Today’s note was in the slashy writing that all his notes had been in.
It read: Be safe.
“I gotta go. Picking up my load.” Dad paused. “Your mom wants to do lunch sometime this week.”
I grimaced. “We’ll see.”
“Love you, baby girl.”
I read the note again.
Be safe.
They were never flowery or overly sentimental.
Usually just a couple of words, relating to keeping my eyes open and staying safe. Or possibly telling me it was supposed to rain and to grab an umbrella.
But they were there, every morning, and always thoughtful.
I placed Holt in his favorite swing and gave him a little push.
His little legs pumped and his booty bounced as his laughter filled the air.
How could I ever have thought I didn’t want this?
I gave him a few more pushes before I hit the end of my coffee.
Like I did every morning when I got a cup with a note on it, I rinsed it out at the water fountain and stashed it in my bag. When I got home, I’d added it to the others in my closet.
When I got back to Holt, I gave him another push, then pulled my phone back out of my pocket.
I scrolled to my favorites.
There were only two people in it.
The first one was my dad.
The second was Copper.
I held my breath, then placed the call.
He answered on the first ring.
