30. Shirtless Daddies Do It Best #3
“I’m afraid of dying,” she blurts, then waits, gauging my reaction.
When I don’t give her one, she goes on. “It’s not really death I’m afraid of, but what comes after unexpected death.
The thought of never seeing Connor again, not getting to watch him grow up, it wrecks me.
And who will take care of him? He has no grandparents.
His own father doesn’t even—” She stops herself, waving the words off, her nose wrinkling.
“I know my parents didn’t die in a car accident.
But people die in car accidents every single day, and fires are way less likely, and it still happened.
“After they died, I started having a lot of anxiety around the possibility of unexpected death, but once I had Connor, it grew tenfold. Suddenly, I had this little human who depended on me for everything, and all I could think about was what my parents’ final moments were like, knowing they weren’t going to see me again, that I’d be alone.
People always say, ‘I can only imagine,’ and I always think it’s silly, because, like, no, you really can’t.
But I’ve been imagining it for so long now, and it’s…
it’s debilitating. There’s no other way to describe it.
It’s like my body quits on me. Fear takes hold of my brain, and I can’t do anything but sit there and imagine the worst-case scenario.
I get so lost in my thoughts, Adam. Sometimes it feels like they eat me alive. ”
She sniffles, a swallow so audible it hurts my own throat.
When a tear slides down her cheek, I catch it on my thumb.
“I know it’s only my imagination, but that almost makes it harder, you know?
Because if it hurts this much to just imagine it…
God, the pain my parents must have experienced in those moments, knowing that was it. ”
She swipes a hand through the air, dismissing her own pain, forcing a laugh. “So, yeah, that’s why I’m scared to drive, even though I’d love to learn. Silly, huh?”
“No.”
Her gaze slides to me. “What?”
“Not silly at all. Your fears are real and valid. I can feel your pain, Rosie, and it hurts. I have a thought though. You’re feeling what you’re feeling, this fear of having to say good-bye to Connor, leave him behind, and that’s scary enough on its own…
but what if you’re holding onto your parents’ grief too?
What if you’re taking on the pain they felt leaving you behind?
Their pain that they felt like they were abandoning you? ”
Her gaze drops, searching through my words as her chest heaves.
I squeeze her hands in mine. “Can you try something? Close your eyes for me.” I smile, brushing her hair off her face as her eyes flutter closed.
“I know it’s hard, but picture your parents sitting here with you.
” A tear escapes, tracking its way down her cheek, followed by another, and she clamps down on her lower lip, chin trembling. “Tell them you see their pain.”
She shakes her head, tears falling faster.
“Rosie,” I whisper, taking her face in my hands. “Please. Tell them.”
“I see your pain,” she cries softly.
“Good girl,” I murmur, swiping at her tears. “Now tell them you can’t hold it for them.”
She gasps out the words before she falls across the center console, collapsing against my chest. I smooth my palm down her back, holding her close as she cries into my neck.
“What did they say?”
She looks up at me, green eyes dancing in their own rain, crystal clear as it washes away just a little bit of her fears. “‘We’re not asking you to.’”
“I believe that. They don’t want you to hold onto that. Not the pain, not the fears. They want you to remember the love.” I wipe away the tears that cling to her lashes as she gives me a heartbreaking smile. “I bet they gave the best kind of love, Rosie. Just like you.”
Rosie tosses her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. “Thank you, Adam. Thank you so much.”
We spend the next few minutes checking the mirrors, practicing tapping the break and giving the truck just a little bit
of gas, and when Rosie’s ready, she takes a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel.
“Put it into drive,” I tell her, watching as she does it.
“Good. Now signal left to let people know you’re going to be merging into traffic.
” I glance over my shoulder at the imaginary traffic, Archie and Marco hitting us with two thumbs as they watch from the side of the road, Connor clapping Marco’s head.
“And when you’re ready, take your foot off the brake. ”
She squeezes her eyes shut and breathes deeply before demanding, “Tell me something good. Tell me about your charity, The Family Project. Why do you do it?”
I smile. “I do it for the kids who are searching for somewhere to belong, searching for safety, for love.”
Rosie cracks her lids. Slowly, she releases the brake, and the truck inches forward.
“I do it for the kids who want to give up, because I want to show them what happens when you hold on a little bit longer.”
She steps on the gas, just a bit, and the truck moves a little faster.
“I do it so they know there’s always someone out there that loves them, that’s rooting for them. That it might take some time, but they’re going to find their people. I do it for the Rosies.”
She beams, bright and so beautiful, and when she comes to a stop at the corner and throws the truck in park, Archie and Marco run toward us with Connor, shouting and cheering. The pride shining in her eyes is unparalleled, a sight I’ll remember forever.
“I did it, Adam. I drove down my first street!”