Page 73 of Courageous Hearts

I wish I were there with Bo right now so I could wrap them in my arms. So I could tell them, without this distance between us, how much it means to me to have their trust. To know I make them feel safe—that’s the highest honor. The absolute best feeling.

But Bo looks off screen, and I realize I’m out of time. I’m not there with them right now. I can’t pull them into my arms. And what I want to say can’t be done in the span of seconds or even a minute or two.

So I nod, placing a big ol’ bookmark as a placeholder in my mind so I can come back to this conversation later. And I tell Bo, “Miss you. Be safe down there.”

“’Course. Bye, Jamie.”

“Bye.”

The call disconnects, and Bo’s solemn face disappears. But their words stay with me.

You make me feel safe. Safe to be myself with you.

And I start counting the minutes until Bo is back in my arms.

Chapter 22

Bo

“What d’you think, kiddo? Spaghetti pie or grilled steaks tonight?”

I groan happily. “Spaghetti pie. I haven’t had that since… Well, since the last time I was here.”

Sara grins, accepting the shucked corn I pass her and cutting the kernels off the cob. We pulled them off the stalks just earlier today. “Spaghetti pie it is. I’ve got enough tomatoes still to make the sauce, but I’ll needa swing by the market for the pasta.”

“Let me,” I offer. “I wanna check out the new bakery, so I can hit both places at once.”

“All right. If you’re sure,” my aunt says, tossing the final cob in the trash. She sticks the tray of corn into the freezer—she’ll bag it once it’s frozen—and heads to the sink to wash her hands. I clear the fallen corn silk from the table before I do the same.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say as we head into Sara’s living room. She sits in her favorite plum-colored chair, and I take the teal couch across from her.

Sara’s entire house is decorated in bright jewel tones. It’s an eclectic mix of newer, modern pieces and vintage decor. Like the kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances and rooster pulls on the cabinets. Or the living room, where a flat-screen TV sits adjacent to a big painted cow.

It’s interesting, to say the least, but somehow, it embodies my aunt perfectly. The way she’s so bright herself, a naturally positive person, but also settled in her roots. Comfortable with her life here in the place she grew up.

Sara leans back in her seat, drawing her legs up onto the deep cushion. “Shoot.”

“Do you know if somethin’s goin’ on with my dad?”

“What d’you mean? Have you talked to him recently?” she asks, concern etched across her features.

I shake my head. “No, but Diesel mentioned it. I just wondered if you knew anythin’.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Sara says. “I haven’t talked to Shane in over a year. He’s been lookin’…older, I guess. But aren’t we all?”

“Pft, you’re hardly old, Sara.”

My aunt shakes her head, a smile twisting her lips. “I’m fifty-six, hun. Not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

“Are you okay?” I ask in sudden worry.

Sara’s smile softens. “I’m perfectly fine. Feelin’ my age, but I’m healthy as can be.”

I exhale in relief, slumping back against the couch. I don’t think I could handle it if something happened to Sara. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

I wonder what it means that I can’t say the same about my own father. If that makes me a bad person. Or maybe, I’ve simply already said my goodbyes to that man.

“If I hear anythin’, I’ll let you know,” Sara says.

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