Page 37 of Love is Blind

I shrug my shoulders.

“You believe what you want, and I’ll believe in what I want.”

“That’s fine, but do you believe in anything?”

“I believe in the patch on my back.”

“That can’t be the only thing you believe in, son. You gotta have faith in something else. If not God, then yourself.”

He steps forward and claps a hand to my back.

“Forgive yourself,” he says. “Because Abigail already has. She doesn’t blame you for what happened. She doesn’t even blame her mother. A baby that young is too innocent to believe in blame. All she knows is love. Can’t let yourself be at peace, fine. But give it to Abigail. Let her see her daddy happy because if she is watching, son, she’s cryin’ for you.”

His hand falls from my back and the tears I was holding back give way. I don’t want to picture my daughter crying—especially not over me. But I don’t know that I can forgive myself and I sure as hell can’t forgive Bianca.

“Her birthday is coming up,” I rasp, thumbing away a tear.

“I know.”

“She needs a headstone, Leftie, and I can’t bring myself to get her one.” I pull in a breath and swipe a hand over my beard. “It’s too final. Too real.”

“There ain’t a race to do it,” he counters. “When you feel the time is right, then you go. I’ll even come with you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and bring my eyes back to his. I don’t understand how he can believe in a God that can take a baby from this world. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

I look back at the marker and shake my head.

“Why her?” I whisper.

Why my daughter?

“This world just wasn’t good enough for her,” he replies. Then he takes a step forward and makes the sign of the cross. I watch as he folds his hands and bows his head in prayer. I stand there idly, then I make the sign of the cross too.

I may have lost my faith, but maybe, just maybe Leftie’s got enough for the both of us.

When he’s done, he lifts his chin and turns his gaze back to me.

“Come, we’ll go across the way. They make a mean grilled cheese and I’ll get me some Danish.”

Swallowing, I shake my head.

“Thanks, but I’ve got some place I need to be.”

That’s a lie, I just don’t have much of an appetite and truth is, I rather be alone right now.

“I wasn’t askin’, boy.”

Then the same tattooed hand that he extended to me thirty-five years ago falls onto my shoulder and just like all those years ago, I let the helper do his job.

Chapter Nine

Ghost

My phone chimessignaling I have a new text message. Lifting my ass off the vinyl seat of the booth, I fish it from the back pocket of my jeans. A quick glance at the screen informs me that it’s from Holly. I didn’t really have a chance to process the stunt she pulled earlier with Birdie, I was reeling from my encounter with Bianca and too jacked with grief.

“Something wrong?” Leftie questions from across the table. I lift my eyes from the screen and reach for my coffee.

“Holly,” I supply.

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