Page 32 of Carter

“It was one of the jobs I had when I was younger and taking care of my brothers.”

“One?”

“I was working three.”

“What else did you do?”

“Delivering newspapers and a janitor at a middle school.”

“How did you have time for all of that?”

“Janitor was at night, cleaning floors and stuff. I’d go home, sleep a few hours, then get up to deliver papers before the sun was up. Go back home. Change. To the coffee shop. Get home, sleep some more. Spend time with my brothers. Repeat.”

“That’s a lot.”

He nods as he puts in the pod to the machine, closing the lid and pushing the button for coffee. “It was. But it was worth it.”

“What are you brothers doing now?”

“Jericho is a firefighter in Chicago. Hollis is in California. He’s always in and out of jobs.”

“When I was a kid, I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I hated when people asked me that question. Everyone else always had a solid answer. I never knew. Still don’t.”

“Do you love what you do?” he asks, turning to face me.

I smile as I think about my job. “Yeah.”

“Then why does it have to change?”

“Just feels like I should be doing better. More.”

“I think you should judge that on your happiness, not on societal standards.”

“Well, I’m not very happy either.”

“You’ll get there,” he says, holding out a paper cup of ginger tea. “Do you need milk? Sugar?”

“No, thanks.”

We head back to his office, and he continues to ask me specific questions about that night, and I give him a few more bits of information he didn’t have before. For the first time in a long time, hope blooms in my chest, and I wonder if maybe this will finally be resolved. If, maybe, Ryan will finally be at peace. If I will finally have some closure myself… and be able to move on.

“You want to grab some lunch?” he asks. “There’s a sandwich shop not too far.”

I look up at the clock on the wall, confused by his question. It’s a little after eleven. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was that time already.”

“My stomach always reminds me.”

I laugh and get to my feet. “Lunch sounds good. But I’m paying this time.”

“Not a chance.”

Chapter thirteen

Nash

The scent of fresh bread can be smelled a block away. My mouth waters. I love a good sub. Maybe I enjoy bread a little too much—especially the fresh stuff. I pull open the door; the bell jingling above, and gesture for Carter to go inside first.

“Wow, this place is small,” he says as he looks around.