Page 75 of Fool Me

“It’s encouraged but not required and highly underutilized.”

“If you decide you want someone to talk to, and you’d rather not talk to someone associated with the department, I have a telehealth provider that has helped me with strategies to process the grief I take on at work.”

I nod, filing it away for later. It’s too much to process at the moment.

“You don’t have to make that decision now. But if, or when, you’re ready, let me know. Right now, you should eat and rest.”

“Eat and rest,” I repeat, slowly. Tears swell at my lash line for the hundredth time in the last twelve hours. “So fucking mundane. Morgan’s family would probably sell their souls for a little mundane right now. I feel like I should do something. The thought of just sitting here makes my skin crawl.”

“What do you want to do?”

Go back in time; get there sooner. Change the past and keep her from ever falling. “I want to go visit the Freeland’s in the hospital, bring Morgan’s mom a coffee, give her a hug, and answer any question she might have. I want an update on Morgan’s dad—to know his prognosis. Maybe I can . . .”

Atlas’s hands cover mine. “Slow down, darling.” He ducks his head. “You can do all that—I’ll even go with you—but let’s pick a starting point.”

I glance down at the untouched banana. “Maybe I'll start with a few bites of this.”

“Probably a solid plan. Once you’ve done that, we can figure out everything else in time.”

Nothing sits well about the first bite of banana. Not the soft texture, not the taste. It’s like cement on my tongue, almost too heavy to swallow. The only reason I’m able to swallow that one bite is because Atlas hands me my coffee. When I shake my head and hand the banana back, he doesn’t push it, just folds the peel over it, setting it on the coffee table, and sits with me in silence as I sip my coffee and stare at the wall.

He stays until he has to go back to the office and leaves me with a kiss softly brushed across my temple and a promise to check in later. I nod and croak out a flat “Thank you.” I wish I could give him more, tell him how much it means, but I just can’t.

And somehow I think he gets that.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

HARLOWE

“I understand you were involved in the rescue-and-recovery mission last week of the out-of-state family that was camping at Bison River,” Sheriff Evans says, pen tapping on the legal pad in front of him. Of course, he already knows this, but just like every interview question, this one is designed to test me.

“Yes, sir.” It’s been six days and the thought of Morgan and her family still chokes me each time I talk about it. I reach for the water in front of me, taking a drink that doesn’t ease the tightness in my throat. I thought visiting earlier this week would help, and in some ways, it did.

“Such a terrible tragedy. I hear you stopped by the hospital to see the Freelands.”

Fiona must have told him I was there. She came in to check Mr. Freeland’s vitals while I was outside the room talking to Aspen before I left. Not that the sheriff’s daughter really knows who the hell I am, but gossip about the Freelands and Steve’s condition is everywhere. It makes the simplest tasks like going to the grocery store an emotional minefield.

Aspen was giving me a hug and trying to talk me into a hike this week, so I hadn’t paid much attention to Fiona at the time.Sharing that with her father borders on a HIPPA violation, but pointing that out probably won’t bode well for my interview.

“You didn’t have any concerns that your emotions regarding the incident at the ravine were clouding your judgement when you visited them? The family could take your interest as an admission that you or the department did something wrong.”

His question is a slap to the face. This man has faced the unthinkable during his career. He’s pulled teenagers out of wrecks on backcountry roads and had to tell their parents. He’s lost an officer in the line of duty.

To place blame on me . . . my blood boils.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep in the last week. Maybe it’s just the fresh reminder that life’s too short to hide your true emotions. Maybe it’s that I’ve been the family member at the hospital waiting to see if my loved one was going to make it through. It could certainly be the fact that I don’t think he would have asked a man that question. Maybe it’s just fucking all of it. Or maybe it’s none of it and it’s the sound of Atlas’s voice in my head telling me that my compassion and my heart make me a better leader.

“No, I didn’t. I’d like to think that by checking on Morgan’s family, who’s going through the worst days of their lives while away from home, no less, is called being human. Not an admission. Not a weakness. Just human decency. And frankly, that’s the bare minimum it takes to earn the respect of a team—and to lead them in a way that matters when everything else falls apart. It’s what my dad would have done, but you never would have accused him of being emotional.”

He shuffles the papers in his hands, his eyes scanning words I can’t see. “I respected your dad for the work he did on the job, but his trust wasn’t always well placed. You’d do well to learn from his mistakes.” Pushing his chair back he stands. Evansdoesn’t hold out a hand for me to shake, which is fine because I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.

“If you have any other questions about my qualifications, you know how to get in touch with me,” I say in parting and then head for the door.

That Evans might dislike Canyon more than me feels like my only win coming out of this round of interviews. Everyone asked about Morgan Freeland—all in different capacities. Mostly with care and concern for my well-being.

Had it not been for Atlas’s encouragement and the two sessions with a therapist specializing in emergency services earlier in the week, I don’t think I would have handled any of it with grace. There’s a chance I wouldn’t even have shown up to the interviews. The thought of talking about the night at the ravine was debilitating enough that I’d questioned if I could go through with it at all. If I had what it took to lead a team through something like that.

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