Chapter 34
“Who gets chocolate?” I tried to infuse enthusiasm in my voice as I proxied for Jolene. She’d gone on a mushroom tour of France—had even texted me a photo of herself holding a basket full of mushrooms in the woods. She’d been surrounded by friends from her mycophile group, smiling proudly and wearing a T-shirt that said MILF: Mushroom I’d Like to Forage.
I scanned the room to see whether we might have any takers. I barely knew what had happened this week. I’d been too busy wallowing in my own self-pity to keep up with the online group.
“No one?”
The bowl sat still in my hand. Clarine frowned worriedly. Even Peggy looked concerned.
“What?” I finally asked, sounding a bit snappy to my own ears.
“You’re the one who looks like you need chocolate, honey.” Gentle words came from Shenita.
I sat down the bowl, then looked down at my hands.
“Buck said something,” I finally admitted. Everyone knew about our dating status by now. “We got on the subject of raising babies who aren’t your own. The first time we talked about it, he didn’t say anything against it. But this last time, he did.”
“What is he against, exactly?” Darlene sounded offended. The solidarity made me feel seen.
“He said children have a right to know where they come from,” I replied. “I don’t disagree, but it’s more complicated than he’s making it sound. And I don’t know where it leaves him and me.”
“Where were things before?” Peggy leaned toward me. “I mean, does this change something you had planned?”
I toyed with my fingers, not knowing what to say. I’d warned Buck that our lives were too different. He’d only proven me right. If I was hurt now, well that was my own damn fault.
“No, we hadn’t made any plans,” I admitted. “I told him I couldn’t be with him long-term. I think I’m just hurt that he’s against what I’m doing. Not that I need his approval...I just didn’t expect his judgment. He’s not the man I thought he was.”
“Did you stick up for your position?” Shenita wanted to know.
“To an extent,” I hedged, unable to tell them about Adam or what had prompted this.
Clarine, who was next to me, picked up the bowl of chocolate.
“Well, that deserves a Kit Kat.”
A good night’ssleep in my own comfortable bed let me wake the next day feeling better. A hot bath with jasmine flowers and a mineral clay face mask the night before had helped. Over morning coffee, I finally pulled out my logbook to write notes on our Nashville findings.
When I got to the bottom of my coffee, I felt anxious, and sick. I’d thought reveling in the win would remind me that I’d cracked the case. But wrapping the case didn’t feel like a victory lap. It felt like closing the book on me and Buck.
You’re overreacting, I told myself, one of the many conflicting whisperings of my inner voice. Everyone had their own opinions. That was how the world worked. But it wasn’t just our fight. Things had been bound to change either way, with me in a new job, Buck closer to the end of his lease, and the two of us at the end of his investigation.
Don’t take it personally.
More scolding from my inner voice, which wasn’t without reason. It made zero sense to be disappointed about a guy whose advances I’d resisted for so long. It only proved the reasons why I’d rebuffed him were still good reasons. He and I were at different life stages, with different values and goals.
On top of all of that was the clincher: in three days, he hadn’t called. He’d texted, but it hadn’t felt right. An I’m sorry arrived the morning after the fateful conversation along with a promise that we would talk that night. Instead of showing up, he’d sent a cryptic text about needing to drive out to see his mother. When I’d asked if everything was alright, he’d texted a final cryptic message: It’s complicated.
Walking into the sheriff’s department that morning felt like it had after Floyd: like I had to compartmentalize my brain just to do my job. My new role required me to spend more time in the field, and to know what incidents were active. But dispatch between police and fire was shared. So even when I was doing my damndest to keep him out of my head, I couldn’t look at the board without thinking about Buck.
“I’m gonna need that paperwork.”
The all-business voice of Flo McClure broke me out of my haze. No doubt, I’d been boring a hole into the wall of my office with another blank stare. I swiveled my chair and lifted my gaze to meet her pine-brown eyes in time for her to tell me what I already knew.
“You have to elect your benefits within the first ten days.”
“Right. I’ll do that now,” I replied. “Sorry to drag my feet.”
She gave a curt nod before openly casing my new digs. Her expression was dispassionate as she scanned slow and wide. “You need pictures on the wall.”
When she finally disappeared, I let out a sigh and reached for the folder on the corner of my desk. Inside was an index of health insurance plans, pension plans, and other unfathomable benefits. I’d made my own way for so long that perks like this felt like a dream.
For a long minute, I forgot about Buck and our fight, and I reveled in how far I’d come. This was my victory lap. If twenty-eight-year-old me could see me now...not just independent—unbroken. Not just surviving—thriving in a life that felt like my own. I’d finally healed the little girl inside me who’d thought proving my love meant giving away my power. I’d finally learned that family wasn’t about the people who you were bound to—it was about the people who you chose and who chose you.
“I choose me.”
I didn’t know whose benefit I was saying it for, but the thought struck me hard enough to speak out loud. It stayed with me as I opted for the maximum retirement withholdings and a pre-tax reserve to put into a Health Savings Account. It stayed with me as I read the fine print on the brochure to learn which insurance plan had the best coverage for labor and delivery, and as I’d opted into the first life insurance plan I’d ever opted into in my life.
When it was all done, I put my signature on the paperwork, made a copy for my records, and dropped it off with Flo. Buck was back on my mind, but not in the way he’d been before. Maybe the universe hadn’t given him to me to keep. Maybe he’d been delivered to me as a reminder that wanting and needing were different things. Maybe he’d been sent as a reminder that I couldn’t forget myself and what I needed over how I felt about a man. I couldn’t do that ever again.