Page 118 of Finding Forever

“I didn’t have much choice.”

“You could’ve stayed.”

“Not without ignoring what she’d asked me for.”

Hank nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”

Dave leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs. The problem was that leaving Beth’s house hadn’t stopped him wanting to go back. He’d reached for his phone more times than he cared to count.

On Monday, he’d nearly sent her a message asking if she was okay. Tuesday, he’d considered calling. This afternoon, he’d caught himself wondering whether Laurel might know how Beth was doing. Then he’d realized how unfair it would be to drag her friend into something Beth had asked to deal with privately.

So he’d done nothing. He hated doing nothing. “I keep wanting to call her,” he admitted.

Hank studied him. “But you haven’t.”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

Dave turned his head. “That’s your advice?”

“Would you prefer something more dramatic?”

“At this point, I’d settle for useful.”

Hank smiled faintly. “All right. You want useful? Beth asked you for space. Give it to her.”

Dave’s jaw tightened. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“I know. And you’re miserable because you think doing nothing means you’re failing.”

Dave frowned.

Hank pointed the neck of his bottle toward the tractor. “You’ve spent your whole life solving things. Something breaks, you repair it. A supplier makes a mistake, you sort it out. A building has a problem, you work out why and do something about it.”

“That’s my job,” Dave told Hank.

“Exactly. You’re used to action getting results.”

Dave understood where this was going. “Hank⁠—”

“But Beth isn’t that tractor,” Hank said.

“I know that.”

Hank threw his hands in the air. “Then stop looking for the wrench.”

Despite himself, Dave laughed.

Hank grinned. “There. That’s better.”

The sprinkler changed direction outside. Dave watched it for a few seconds before speaking again. “What if Beth thinks I stopped caring?”

“She won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No, but Beth isn’t stupid. She knows exactly why you’re staying away.”