Page 9 of SEAL of Valor

She chuckles softly. “Sugar, I am so sorry.”

“Thanks, Mom. It’s a hiccup, but not one I can’t handle.”

A silence settles over the call. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

No. Not even close. “What else could it be? Getting fired is the worst thing that’s happened to me all year. Aside from catching him cheating, that is. Though I don’t consider that bad, since I caught him.”

She’s quiet for another moment. I can picture her in her living room, simmering over my ex cheating then firing me less than a handful of months later. “Why don’t you let me come to you? I can stay for a few days, and we can figure out what to do.”

“I really want to get out of the city, if that’s okay. Besides, you have a lot going on at the ranch, and maybe working with my hands will help. You always did say a little dirt can heal a broken heart.”

It’s what she said every day after my dad passed. Whenever anyone would tell her to take time off, to let someone else handle the ranch, she’d tell them to mind their own business. That no amount of tears would heal her heart like a little dirt under her fingernails.

Maybe it’s time for that.

Some dirt under my fingernails and sweat on my brow.

“That, it can, Sugar. I’ll get the guest room ready. You and Aragorn come stay as long as you want.”

Smiling, I reach over and pat the thick, black fur of my German Shepherd. He glances over at me, brown eyes still half-closed in sleep. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. I love you, Sugar. This storm shall pass. They all do.”

“I know,” I reply. “See you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.” As I end the call and toss my cell to the side, I stare at my open Bible.

“This storm shall pass. They all do.” My mom’s words run through my mind on repeat. Do they all pass? I know they should, but I feel like I’ve been living in the same hurricane for nearly two decades now.

Sure, there are moments of sunshine. Or warmth. But then it’s right back into the icy depths of the tumultuous waters. Tears fill my eyes again, and I lift the wooden box, cradling it in my lap.

How many nights have I sat just like this?

How many times have I dialed the number I’ve had memorized since I was a teenager with hearts in her eyes?

Yet I know there is no world in which Weston Hayes and I will ever work. There’s too much damage there. So much darkness that it would smother any of the light I’ve managed to find.

Besides, he’s probably been married a long time already. Maybe even has a couple— I choke on the thought, the tears in my eyes becoming so thick I can’t see.

I used to imagine him showing up here and sweeping me off my feet all over again. But as the years passed, I had to confront those thoughts for what they were: the foolish dreams of a teenager.

And that girl is so far gone that the woman I am now wouldn’t even recognize her.

My fingers brush worn wood near the latch on the box he made me as a Valentine’s Day gift when we were fourteen. Inside, I’ve tucked away every memory I kept. Every photograph, tattered as they are from being pinned to a photo board in my room.

The single violet he surprised me with in homeroom one random Wednesday morning.

The earrings he made for me because he thought it would be fun to try something new.

Before my mind can focus on the heaviest memory in this box, the loss that still haunts me every day of my life, I set it aside and get to my feet.

Tomorrow, I will go home.

Tomorrow, I will brush myself off and get back up.

I’ll spend some time at the ranch, far away from the town that still remembers him and me together.