Page 104 of Dr. Attending

“It’s dumb,” she says, shaking her head. “But each day I write down one thing to be happy about.”

“Why?” I ask, even though I suspect that I already know the answer.

She shrugs, her fingers idly tapping the edge of her phone. “I guess because when Mom died, someone got me a similar book with a list of thousands of things. And ever since, I started keeping a list of my own. I don’t know how to explain it, but finding one good thing in each day helped me work through my grief.”

I pull her closer, squeezing her arm. “And what were you thinking of writing for today?”

“I don’t know.” She laughs and scrolls through the list quickly. “Probably something like, ‘Family drama that finally resolves itself.’ Or maybe, ‘Fighting with words instead of fists.’”

The light from the fireplace reflects in her midnight-blue eyes, turning them into a shade so vibrant they look almost like amethyst when they meet mine. “Do you have any suggestions?”

I don’t have to stop and think because I already know what I’m going to say—the same thing I wrote in the book when I gave it to her last year.

“Memories made with someone you love.”

Caroline’s breath catches as her phone slips from her hand and lands softly on the duvet in her lap.

“You . . .” she trails off as the weight of the realization hits her.

Her eyes dart between me and the list, like she’s trying to make sense of what’s always been right in front of her.

“You,” she repeats, her voice steadier now, more sure. “It wasyou, Wes.”

I nod, feeling goosebumps settle on the back of my neck because I haven’t thought about that gift in a long time.

When Caroline’s mom died, I knew that she would probably internalize a lot of her grief. That she wouldn’t process it because she would throw all her attention into school and her future. But as someone who’s lived through plenty of loss, I’ve learned that avoiding your pain isn’t healthy. You need to let yourself feel. To let yourself remember. To let yourself heal. And that’s what I hoped the book would do for her.

My family kept the same one on our sitting-room table, and over the years I would occasionally flip through it when I was bored at a function. I always found it comforting because it reminded me not to take life too seriously, even when parts of my job felt heavier than I could handle.

Caroline studies me, her gaze searching for answers.

“Why didn’t you sign your name?” she whispers, like she’s trying to keep her tears at bay.

“You wouldn’t have opened it,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I figured you needed it more than you needed to know it was from me.”

Her face crumples as she leans forward, wrapping her arms around me in a hug so tight it feels like she’s holding on for dear life.

“Thank you,” she sniffles, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

I stroke her head as I hold her close. “You never have to thank me for caring about you, Caroline. I’ve been doing it since the day we met.”

Her cheeks are lined with teary streaks when she pulls back and lets out a watery laugh. “I really thought you were going to say something like, ‘A toddler’s first steps.’”

I chuckle because that would have been a good one. Especially because Carter’s first steps were so much more than a developmental milestone—they were a peace offering.

He wormed his way out of Walker’s arms, holding onto the coffee table as the tension in the room reached an all-time high. Then, inexplicably, he chose Parker as the person he wanted to walk toward. And that single step changed everything because it reminded everyone—including Parker—about what was important in life.

“I think that falls under memories made with someone you love. Does it not?”

“Or two people you love,” she teases, her lips twitching into a massive smile.“Don’t think I missed that earlier.”

“I wouldn’t dare, princess.”

I grin because I’ve been waiting for the right time to talk about my slip earlier. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have dropped the L bomb in front of everyone—I would have done in it private, just the two of us. But now that it’s happened, I don’t regret it. Because now they know exactly how I feel about her. Exactly how much I adore her.

Caroline’s smile falters for a moment as her gaze locks onto mine, like she’s trying to commit this moment to memory. “For what it’s worth . . . I love you too, Wes.”

Chapter 38

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