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Sidelined

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Skye sighed. “No. I’ve applied for a program so she can have in-care observation seven days a week, but we’re on a waiting list. I’m starting to think we’ll never get in. She can take care of herself, but when she has a paranoia episode her decision making isn’t the best.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Like this trip to drive cross-country without telling anyone. I had no idea she hasn’t been at home in four days. I’m an awful daughter.”

“I don’t think that.”

Skye met his gaze. “Well, you don’t know me very well. She lives in North Carolina, and I’m in San Diego. I should have moved back home as soon as she was diagnosed.” Crying was not an allowable emotion, but Skye felt the corners of her eyelids stinging and knew she had lost the battle. A tear trickled along her cheek.

“True, I haven’t known you very long, but I can’t imagine you’re anyone but the kind of person who works hard, cares about her family, and is way too hard on herself for things that are out of her control.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping the tear to the side.

“That’s sweet.” Skye stood from the table, suddenly self-conscious she was wearing a towel. “But, I haven’t made the best choices where my mom is concerned and today that’s about to bite me in the ass.” She dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink.

“Let me help you.”

She shoved the mug in the top rack of the dishwasher. “Thanks, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do. She’s my responsibility. I’m going to have to face reality. Either I quit and go home to take care of her, or I have to put her in a home, and I can’t do that.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that to my mom.”

“There has to be something I can do.” He stood in between her and the exit to the hallway.

“No. I need to make a few calls. Tell my aunt where my mom is, and I need to call in to work and let them know I can’t present the new zoo slogans tomorrow. I can’t believe I finally got part of that project, and I have to cancel on my first meeting.”

"Why do you have to cancel your meeting?" Ben's eyes hadn't stopped following her.

"Because I can't leave her alone. She could get lost or start trouble with my neighbors. I just can't leave her here where she doesn't know anyone."

Skye noticed Ben was concentrating.

“Wait, what if I hang out with your mom?”

Skye shook her head in disbelief. “Oh no way, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Ben smiled. “You didn’t ask. I’m offering. Look, I have some leave saved up, and I can take a day or two this week to help you. That way you don’t have to miss your meeting, and it might buy you some time to figure out how to get her back home.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the smile, the eyes, or the warmth of his skin radiating in her direction, but she had never wanted to believe in someone so much in her life.

“You don’t look convinced.” He drew her into his chest. “I had fun yesterday touring the city. I can take your mom to the museum, or the beach. She’ll love it.”

Skye didn’t want to move, she only wanted to stay with her cheek pressed into his chest, listening to his heart beat. For the first time there was someone with her, offering to share the burden, offering to help. It felt like she could breathe.

She looked in

to his eyes. “You’re sure? She’s a handful. She once accused a waiter of poisoning our order at a restaurant. And she’s tried on clothes in the mall and walked out with them still on, insisting she paid for them. She’s not like other people’s mothers.”

Ben nodded. “I know women. I can handle her.”

Skye laughed. “You’ve never met this one.”

Nineteen

Bolt showered for the second time today. The last time he had met a girl’s parents was in high school, and it didn’t go so well when he brought her home after curfew. He never let dating get far enough into the parent stage. That was more commitment than he was usually interested in. Why in the hell was he headed over to have dinner with Patty Stephens?

Skye didn’t ask for his help. He volunteered. There was something about her that was making things that used to seem impossible, seem possible. Like sticking around for breakfast or volunteering to do something completely insane.

Skye suggested he come back over after her mother arrived so that she could explain to her they would have a guest at dinner. She said something about needing time to let her adjust.

Parents had stopped being a part of his life a long time ago. Ben hadn’t seen his parents since he left for college. He walked out the door and never looked back. He sometimes wondered how they were doing. Was his dad still drinking? Did his mother still make meatloaf every Sunday? But he didn’t call, he didn’t write, and he didn’t visit. Military life gave him the perfect excuse to stay as far away from Greene, Tennessee as possible. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that they never reached out to him either. He knew it was better this way. He would go back some day, but he wasn’t ready.

They didn’t seek each other out for that reason, but he and Riggs always had that in common. Riggs had left home at the same time. When he and Bolt were paired as roommates in college there was an understanding that none of the other kids got. Everyone else on their hall packed up for winter break and weekends home to do laundry, but not Riggs. He and Bolt took trips together, spent summers visiting as many ballparks as their car would take them to, met girls, partied in Cabo, and decided to join the Marine Corps together. Without exchanging the words, they became each other’s family.

Their senior year Riggs met Faith. She transferred in from a nearby art school. Bolt tried not to resent the relationship, and for the most part, he prided himself on how he didn’t give Charlie a hard time about getting so serious so fast with a girl. After graduation Riggs asked Faith to marry him. They eloped before Officer Candidates School and the rest was history. Bolt didn’t let his third-wheel status bother him. Faith was a cool girl and she made Riggs happy. Anyone who spent five minutes with the couple could see it.

“Why don’t you try it, man?” Riggs asked one night over a beer.



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