Page 244 of Back in the Saddle

Best.

Cat.

Ever.

I’d spent the day helping Harlow pack then out shopping with the girls.

Eric had spent the day with Henny, leaving him only to head back to the pet store to double up on bowls and toys and litterboxes.

Best.

Guy.

Ever.

After Henny checked we were okay, he collapsed on a hip, lifted his hind leg in the air, rested his front paw on his side then commenced cleaning his belly.

As for me, I used a finger to slide Eric’s hair off his forehead (it just dropped back, but whatever) and regained his attention.

“You think Homer’s doing okay?” I asked.

His gaze softened (or it did this more, it was already soft and warm and sweet) and he replied, “Tex visited him today and said he was hanging in there. And Tex wouldn’t lie. So…yeah. I think he’s hanging in there.”

“You think maybe we should ask your dad to Phoenix for Christmas?” I blurted.

Now that things had settled down with all Jeff’s and my shenanigans, my mind had turned to my man, the upcoming holiday, and the fact that I had Jeff and a lifetime in Phoenix that gave me an abundance of found family, and Eric had none of that.

Eric had done his FBI thing, then spent time in Denver and lived in LA, but he was originally from Michigan, and both his dad and brother still lived there.

His brother…I wasn’t going to go there. He sounded like a dick.

His dad, though…

I mean, Christmas was coming, I had Jeff, and all my girls.

He had no one.

Except me.

“Honey,” he murmured.

“Okay, hear me out,” I began.

He took his hand from my nightie to cup the side of my face, then he bent and got close to said face.

“I know you want good things for me,” he said quietly.

“I do,” I replied.

“And I love that,” he stated. “But we’re looking at a thirty-year commitment to his illness. I’m not without empathy. He lost his wife and the mother of his children, and he carries some earned guilt around that, because he deemed his work more important than sharing the responsibilities of being a parent. I know addiction is a chronic illness. But with any kind of illness, you have to commit to treatment. If you don’t, there comes a time for the people in your life to be forced to make a decision, because your illness, and the decisions you make around it, affect the people who love you.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “I made that decision a long time ago, Jess.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

He sighed, and it was such a big one, I wished I hadn’t ruined our moment by mentioning it.

“I haven’t cut him out of my life,” he said. “I don’t talk to my brother, but I do talk to Dad. What I also do is keep firm to my boundaries.”

Smart. Healthy.

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