Bourbon Nights by Shari J. Ryan

Author:Shari J. Ryan [Ryan, Shari J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-19T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

The Girl of my Dreams: I can’t talk, I’m sorry.

* * *

I’m the one who gets the “sorry.” She has nothing to be sorry about, and I’d tell her that if responding wouldn’t be an over-the-top move after her simple statement.

This isn’t right. I have to do something, aside from cleaning up the shop. I have to help. After I was discharged from the Marines, I often get this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach when I just sit around. There is always someone in need, and something I can be doing. It’s all I knew for eight years—it’s all I cared about. I signed my life away to protect and serve others, and now I’m a dad but I’m not sure how great of one I am. Melody isn’t just a hand reaching out for help, she’s the silent sufferer, holding in her pain, to be strong for her loved ones. Being the person who takes care of everybody can be rewarding but can also be the most difficult job in the world.

With a glance around the shop, torturing myself for an idea of what I can do, I grab a couple of bottles from the shelf and place them in a paper bag, then set them off to the side.

I grab my phone from the crate beneath me and dial Mom’s phone.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

We spoke this morning after I dropped Parker off at school so I could fill her in on what happened last night. Mom knows if we disappear without saying goodbye, there’s a reason, and though she was concerned, she knows well enough I’d call if there is an emergency. If she doesn’t hear from me, it’s because I’m handling everything until I can fill her in on the situation. It wasn’t always like this with Mom, but we both learned to accept this way of life when I was deployed and even when I was just working on the base. I think it was harder for her to accept this way of life than it was for me but she adapted over time and trusts that if something is serious, she’ll know. During our conversation, we were both wondering if I would get a call from the school today, letting me know that Parker isn’t acting like herself or she’s upset and not speaking, but I think we’re moving past those days, slowly.

“Yeah, no call from the school thankfully, so she must be doing okay,” I say.

“Thank goodness. I started to think back on the last few times she broke down. She seems to be handling her emotions a little better now. I think she stayed at school the last time too, didn’t she?”

I think back for a moment, trying to recall the last time Parker had an emotional breakdown, and it was on Abby’s birthday. We went to the therapist and to Church, before stopping to get a cake to celebrate Abby’s birthday. We did everything we could

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