Page 110 of Dream Weaver

Unfortunately, I’d struck one in myself too, and the words kept coming.

“Whatever hurt she has comes from a long time ago, not from me,” I growled, keeping my voice low. “Hurt she keeps wrapped around her like armor. And I get it. I get the pain, the need to put up walls. But it’s those walls standing between her and happiness, not me.”

Mike pursed his lips, and the wind that had been swirling around my ankles faded slightly.

“The rescue train could stop right in front of her, and she could have a free ticket, but she would still refuse to get aboard,” I continued.

He cocked his head, confused.

I shook my head, exasperated. “I want her to be happy. I want tomakeher happy. But she won’t let me. And that kills me.” My voice cracked again, but I went on croaking. “It kills me.” All the steam went out of me, and I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, muttering, “Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is all she needs.”

Mike’s eyes dropped to the ground, telling me he disagreed.

Well, so did I. But what could I do?

I kicked the ground. I really had to get back to work. I couldn’t leave without one last word, though. “I’m glad she has you.”

It hurt to admit, but it was true. Abby loved her sisters, and she adored her stepfathers. A damn good thing, because if she didn’t have them, she would have nobody. Plus, having Mike around to protect her made it that much easier for me to walk away.

Not that any part of this was easy.

I stepped away without waiting for Mike’s reaction. Back in the shop, I used the last scrap of momentum I had to walk over to where Abby banged away.

She straightened, giving me a sharp look, but I kept my eyes on the bench behind her.

“That’s for Claire.” I put down a pint-sized juice, then walked away.

Funny how a carton of juice could make your throat go dry.

The damn thing stayed with me for a while, though. I suspected it would for a long, long time.

At 2:45, I dusted off the last ax handle, checked it again, then added it to the neat row of nineteen — now twenty — leaning against the wall. Then I put away my tools and swept up.

At three, Abby’s watch alarm rang, and she and Mike left to pick up Claire.

I carefully peeled back the tape holding Claire’s drawings to my locker and rolled them the way museums did with masterpieces. Then I grabbed a crayon and drew my own picture, along with a few words.Dear Claire…

I stopped, momentarily stuck. Then I went on.

Sorry to leave on short notice, but it’s time for me to go fight fires. Thanks for teaching me about horses and other things. Take good care of yourself and your mom for me.

Love, Cooper.

I looked it over, then stuck it under the juice and did an about-face. It was 3:10, and I had to get moving.

I shook Walt’s hand, took one last look around the shop, and walked out forever.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ABBY

“Closing time, Abby,” Walt called quietly.

I didn’t so much as glance at the clock. I just kept hammering away.

Normally, my boss communicated in a firm boom. Now, his voice was soft and gentle, like I might break.

And, hell. I was close.

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