would want me to try. He would have wanted me to watch that video once, not use it as a lullaby for twenty-two months. He would have wanted me to get out of bed and try, even if I failed.
Maybe I couldn’t be as happy as Jackson and Finley, spinning around in the ocean, but maybe…just maybe I could hurt a little less.
I slammed my laptop closed. My feet hit the floor, and five minutes later, I turned the key in the ignition of my Mini Cooper—still dressed in my pajamas. By six twenty-five, I was parked outside Dr. Circe’s office.
She arrived at seven fifteen, her eyes flying wide when she found me sitting on the wooden steps that led to her office.
“I don’t want to feel like this for the rest of my life,” I admitted before she could ask me what the hell I was doing there.
“You don’t have to,” she said softly, moving her bag to her other shoulder and sitting next to me on the step.
“You really, honestly think you can help me?”
She reached over and took my hand. “I do. Now do you think you can find someone to be your support person? This really works better with one.”
I nodded, a slight smile curving my lips. “Yeah. I just need to buy a few cases of peppermint mocha coffee creamer as bribery before I ask her.”
Chapter Four
Jackson
“Hey, Jax, Connor is looking for the volleyball,” Cassidy told me, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. “Oh, hi, Brie.”
Brie gave her a half wave from where she stood, leaned back against my kitchen counter. So much like Claire. And yet the two couldn’t have been more different. They’d been Irish twins—Claire older by eleven months—but Brie had always acted like the older sister.
“It’s in the garage, second shelf, right-hand side. And tell your husband the NA beer is in this one; I know he’s on call tonight,” I told Cassidy before pouring the bag of ice into the cooler. The heat wave had weekend temps pushing eighty, which meant it was time for the first Sunday barbecue of the season.
“Man, it’s weird to be here when Finley isn’t,” Brie said, swinging a bag of beach towels over her shoulder.
“Yeah, but it’s your mom’s weekend, and I know how they both live for it.” Finley adored her grandmother. Hell, we both did. Vivian filled the massive shoes left empty not just by Claire but by the three other grandparents Fin was missing.
“How’s the new nanny working out?”
“So far, so good. I know your mom wasn’t keen on Fin spending so much time with a stranger—”
“Look, Jax, your job is utterly unpredictable. You never know if you’ll get a call or if a shift will run late. You have no say in what happens out there.” She motioned toward the ocean. “Mom’s not taking care of her diabetes the way she should, and she’s getting older. She’s not up for those late-night drop-offs anymore. You absolutely did the right thing hiring Sarah.”
I closed the lid on the cooler. “She still pissed about it?”
Brie cringed. “Well, she did go off on Claire for a good twenty minutes this morning.”
My stomach cramped. “Claire’s here?”
“Oh no!” Brie’s eyebrows shot up. “I meant on the phone. They still talk every Saturday.”
My jaw flexed, and I bit back every remark that came to mind, like how fucking ludicrous it was that Claire talked to her mother every week when she hadn’t bothered to call Finley in the last two months. “How is she?” I managed to ask.
It wasn’t Brie’s fault that Claire was…well, Claire.
“She’s good. Still in L.A. waiting to see if the last pilot she did gets picked up.”
“Pilot. Right.” How many was that now?
“She really does miss Finley. You, too, of course.” Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Yeah, misses her so much that she’s seen her once in the last eight months.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm the ever-present rage that boiled to my surface whenever I thought about the way Claire treated Fin. “You know what? Let’s not do this.”
Brie forced a quick smile. “Good idea. Let’s get down to the barbecue,” she suggested, moving to hold the door open.
“Yeah, let’s get out there.” I latched the cooler and lifted its hefty weight, then headed out of the house and down the stairs with Brie following close behind.
My gaze caught on the massive F250 parked outside Morgan’s boathouse. Sam—her last houseguest—had left two days