treading in dangerous territory.
“But what does it say about me that two years later I’m still so fucked-up about it that I have to be treated for a grief disorder? Why? Because I still think it’s so fucking unfair that everyone else in our group of friends got their happy endings at the expense of mine? What kind of person thinks that? What kind of person can’t talk to her best friend because all she wants to do is scream that it’s not fair? That everyone acted like my heart didn’t matter—I didn’t matter. Paisley didn’t even tell me herself, or even think about me. Ember had to tell Sam to call me. That’s how I found out he was dead. And I know Paisley’s husband was wounded, but a lifetime of friendship didn’t afford me a moment of consideration from anyone but Sam and Grayson.”
My jaw flexed as she tugged the safety glasses free and threw them on the counter.
“God, how can it still hurt so much after all this time? He never even loved me. I don’t even have the right to grieve him like this,” she cried, and I moved.
A few seconds later, I was around the bar and in front of her, gripping her arms lightly so she’d look at me.
“Morgan, grief isn’t a measure of how much someone loved you. It’s the measure of how much you loved them. You have every right to feel however the hell you want to feel. Do you understand me?”
She swallowed and looked up at me from under the brim of his cap. The man who I’d never met and would never want to. How could anyone be stupid enough to turn down Morgan’s love?
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” Her eyes filled with tears, and I pulled her into my arms, resting my chin on her head as she cried into my chest.
“I know you don’t.”
“I want to be happy and to have a heart that’s worth risking. I miss my friends. I miss him, but then there’s you, and I want to be ready for whatever this is, and it all just jumbles in my head.” Her sobs shook her shoulders.
“I’ll wait for as long as you need me to,” I promised her again. “You don’t have to factor me in to your healing. I’m not going anywhere.”
She cried herself out, then stepped back and wiped her tears away with a dusty forearm that left streaks on her face. And still, the woman was beautiful.
“I’m sorry. I probably should have asked how your day was,” she muttered.
“Other than the fact that my ex threatened to sue me for custody of Fin, it’s all good.” I shrugged. As terrifying as the threat was, I logically knew that no judge would give her custody.
“Oh God. Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But it’s okay. It won’t happen.”
She swallowed. “Do you want a hammer? It might help to break a few things.”
I grinned. “Why don’t you sit down over there and wait for your ice cream, and I’ll demo the rest of this?”
She nodded slowly. “I’d really appreciate the help.”
“All you ever have to do is ask.”
Then I picked up the hammer and destroyed what was left of her kitchen, knowing whatever she rebuilt in the space would be even better, and I didn’t think about the email I’d already fired off to my lawyer.
I didn’t think about it the rest of the night.
Chapter Sixteen
Morgan
God, I wish I’d had the chance to take you up with me. I wish you knew the way it feels up there with the clouds. It’s like you’re an inconsequential human and a god all at the same time. You would love it.
“This is good,” Dr. Circe said, looking over my list of less-than-awesome memories of Will. As much as the anniversary had taken me down a notch, it hadn’t thrown me backward as much as I’d prepared for. “How did you feel filling it out?”
“Guilty,” I answered honestly. “But lighter once I was done.”
“Excellent. We have a tendency to put our deceased loved ones up on a pedestal, as if we can only remember the good things about them instead of who they were as a whole person.” She leaned forward and put the worksheet on the coffee table. “We’re past the halfway point, and I’m incredibly pleased with your progress.”
“Thank you.” Heat rose in my cheeks.
“How is it going with the truck?”
My pulse kicked up. “Okay. I can open the door and stand on