Page 68 of Wishing Hearts

He hums, all satisfied and smug, and I have to step back, lest I start mauling him in front of my daughter.

“Make sure Winnie and Tigger stay away from the tools while you work,” I say, walking backwards toward the house.

Sam tips his hat, giving me a wink. “You got it, stud.”

Glancing at Winnie one last time—I don’t need to know why her and Tigger are on their stomachs—I turn and head back inside. I toe off my boots before diverting into the laundry room. As the washing machine fills with water, I head upstairs and call my mom.

“Hi, dear,” she answers quickly.

I pull Winnie’s drape to the side, peeking into the backyard. “Hey, Mom. I have something I wanted to tell you and Dad. Before Winnie beats me to it.”

“Okay, hold on,” she says. A minute later, her voice is louder but farther away. “You’re on speakerphone. Your dad and I are both here.”

I don’t bother wasting time with formalities. “Winnie knows about Sam.”

“That you’re dating?” my mom asks.

I nod, phone tucked between my ear and shoulder as I grab Winnie’s laundry basket from her closet. “Yeah. She’s still processing, I think.”

“She’ll be okay,” my mom says.

“And she probably already knew, son,” my dad adds. “It’s not like you bring a lot of friends around the way you have Sam.”

I groan a little, heading back down the stairs. “Thanks, Dad. So helpful.” But he’s likely right. Winnie, on some level, probably already knew.

My dad tsks at me.

“I like him,” Mom says, not for the first time. She’s been asking after him all week. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

A sweetheart. Yeah, that’s Sam. That and so much more.

“I’m glad you’re giving it a go again,” my dad says.

I stop in front of the washing machine, opening the lid to pause the cycle before putting my parents on speakerphone. I set my phone down while I load the washer. “It has been a while,” I admit.

“I was worried that…” My dad trails off.

“What?” I ask.

My mom fills in the silence. “We were worried you might be depressed, Harrison.”

I exhale, hands at the edge of the washing machine as my pulse starts to thrum. “What?”

“You’ve been going through the motions for a long time,” my dad says. “Now, don’t get me wrong. You’re a wonderful parent, and you always make time for Winnie. You give her your all.”

“But?” I prod.

“But you don’t leave anything for yourself, dear,” my mom says gently. “And that can burn a person out. Believe me, I know.”

I can’t even deny their words.

“You haven’t been smiling much lately,” my dad goes on, voice a little sad. “It’s been hard to see. But you wouldn’t take our suggestions to get away for a bit—”

“I did,” I remind him. “Remember? I went away to Plum Valley for a few days, and Winnie struggled the entire time through.”

“And now she’s okay,” he says firmly. “She bounced back. But, Harrison, if you never leave her, she’s not going to learn it’s okay to let you go. You have to give her the chance in small doses.”

I shake my head, even though I know what he’s saying is true. “It’s hard,” I tell him. “I can’t stand her suffering.”

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