Page 91 of How You See Me
“Bless you,” Josie says, twisting off the top of the water bottle I pass her and taking a long drink that does nothing good for my self-control. “Where to next, Cowboy?”
“What happened to Hot Stuff?”
“You’re both, especially when you embrace the hat.”
Noted. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
I loop my fingers with hers and lead the way to the back patio where the land stretches out in golden waves, melting into the lavenders and pinks of the sunset sky.
A breeze sweeps across the open plains in the empty lot on our right, swaying the tall prairie grass and brushing her curls across my arm.
She grins up at me while she removes her phone from her back pocket. “This definitely deserves to be painted.”
As she takes photo after photo, something deep in my chest shifts. Maybe it’s the new space there, allowing me tobreathe. Or the relief of setting aside my responsibilities for a few hours. Maybe it’s the comfort Josie gives me.
“This day just keeps getting better.” Her head drops to my shoulder.
“Does that mean you’re up for more?”
“Oh yeah. It’s been a while since I felt this free.”
“Good. I have an idea.”
She straightens to see me, curiosity lighting her face more than the rose-gold hue of the setting sun. “What is it?”
“I’ll show you.”
With her hand in mine, we head across the park. But when she spots where we’re headed—the revving engines, the crowded and chaotic go-kart track—she skids to a stop.
“Please tell me your idea doesnotinvolve those.”
“I thought we could try.”
“Me?” She jumps back as if a swarm of bees surrounded me.
“What better way to conquer your fear of driving than in fun little cars on a safe bumper track?”
“It’s not even close to the same thing.”
“No, but it’s a start.” Pulling her into my side, she trembles against me, and I tuck her closer. “To ease into it, you can ride with me first. Get a feel for it.”
“Then, you’ll ride with me when I . . . drive?”
“Sure. After that, you can go on your own. You already know how. You just need to do it. Don’t think about it.”
“How can I not?”
Her chin wobbles, and it’s almost enough to make me back down. But this is good for her. She can do it.
“When you’re scared, tap your chest like this.” I cross my hands and link my thumbs together, pressing my palms against my chest.
“Like a butterfly.” She does the same, mirroring me. “Or the moth in your tattoo.”
I nod and start alternating taps. “Now, breathe in over four slow taps, and breathe out four.”
We continue together, eyes locked, until she’s smiling again.
“You can do anything, including this,” I say. “This is one more step on the mountain you’ve already climbed. Through grief, foster care, starting from nothing, you’ve fought for yourself. For Jordan. For your dreams. You don’t even know how strong you are, but I do. I see the warrior in you.”
