Page 25 of October

“This isn’t a simple breakup, Lyla. I have to face him on Monday. I am not going to abandon Casey just because I made the mistake of falling in love with her dad.”

“Then you walk in there with your head held high and do your job like the badass you are. You move forward with pride and confidence. You took your shot. You tried and it just didn’t work out. I promise you; we’ll get you through this.”

I lean into her hug. I wish I could fully believe her, because the blackness in my gut feels like it may never go away.

Ash

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I’m the biggest fucking idiot on planet Earth.

I had the most incredible woman in the world telling me that she loves me, and I didn’t say a fucking thing back to her.

“What an idiot,” I mutter to myself as I stare into the fridge, looking for something to make Casey for dinner.

Heartbreak isn’t something I handle very well when I’m not keeping busy.

I’d like to say if I was on shift, I’d be distracted and able to push the hurt away for a while, but, of course, I took extra time off for Casey’s weekend back home.

So, I have nothing but time and reminders all around me that I’m a fucking idiot.

“Daddy, I’m starrrrrving.” Casey trudges into the kitchen, fresh from a nap she took on the sofa. Her hair is a wild mess and her face is red and squashed from the pillows. She’s adorable.

“You’re right. Me too.” I close the fridge. “How about we go get something from a restaurant. What do you say?”

“As long as it’s chicken tenders,” she replies and I laugh.

“I’m sure we can manage that.”

“Can we call Wren and see if she wants to come? I miss her and I know she loves chicken tenders too.”

Her name is like a bullet to my chest.

“I think Wren is busy this weekend. She’ll be back on Monday like normal.”I hope.

“Ugh, I really wanted to see her sooner,” Casey says, pouting.

“I know, but sometimes Wren has other things to do. We can’t steal her and keep her with us all the time, can we?”

Fuck, I wish we could. I wish I could just march over there and tell her I love her too, but I can’t. I can’t force Casey into a weird situation. She wouldn’t understand.

Casey and I settled on a local spot that has her favorite chicken tenders and fries. She is doing a little happy dance while she colors a picture and eats—crayon in one hand, chicken in the other.

“What are you drawing over there?” I ask her as I chomp on a French fry.

“A picture,” she says plainly.

“Well, yes, I assumed that, Casey.” I chuckle. “What’s it a picture of?”

“Our family.”

I smile. This girl is too sweet for her own good. “Can I see?”

She reluctantly puts down her crayon and uses her now free hand to flip the picture around to show me.

I instantly recognized she and I. She drew me wearing my uniform, hat and all, and she’s wearing her favorite purple dress, but there is another person standing with us in a pink dress.

“Who is that?” I ask.

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