“How long will you be gone?”
“As long as it takes for me to get well. Unless they start a bunch of touchy-feely crap.”
I giggled. “It’s going to get uncomfortable, but I’m proud of you. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“The only thing I’m ashamed of is the way I treated you. The counselor on the phone said their main objective is to help me rebuild trust and rediscover purpose. I told him I already knew my purpose, and that is loving you.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “Brock.”
“I know, Dani. I know I have a long way to go to rebuild trust with you and to prove to you that I love you, but I’m going to.” His tone left very little doubt, if any at all, that he would do exactly that.
“Just go get well.”
“I promise. My mom knows how to get in contact with me if you need me. They won’t let me have my cell phone.” He went silent for half a beat. “I love you.”
I swallowed down my pride and sorrow. “I love you too.”Chapter Twenty-Four“Can I get you anything?” Sheridan was the ultimate caretaker. I think she asked me that question at least twenty times a day. I had never been so well fed, which was saying something, considering that my sister was a phenomenal chef. Sheridan’s pampering made me feel guilty, as she was dealing with her own heartbreak. She said taking care of me and the house was helping her to not get so down in the dumps, as she called it. She’d said, “The best cure for forgetting about your own troubles is to care for someone else’s.” She was amazing at it.
“I’m good. Thank you.” I set my laptop down next to me on the couch and stretched. I was working from home, for now. I still felt a little weak, even after two weeks, and I was still crying at the drop of a hat. Plus, the tragic loss of my baby and my husband’s courageous struggle with PTSD was playing out online. Working from Brock’s offered a buffer from it all. Of course, it was all part of the plan—which so far seemed to be working—but it was still uncomfortable to feel so exposed. To have something so personal and private be talked about so publicly by strangers was unnerving.
Sheridan sat next to me. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV? Brant’s interview is airing soon.”
“Not at all.” I was anxious to see it as well. I didn’t know how he was still out there campaigning and fielding interviews while he knew he would be dropping out as soon as he could. Assuming they could convince John. I wasn’t sure John would ever agree to expose his secrets. And after having to endure all of the chatter about Brock and me in the public arena, I could hardly blame him. Yet I did blame him. He’d forced my hand and made me think I had no choice other than to marry Brock and lie about the baby. He’d forced poor Brant into an engagement he didn’t want, all because of something he had done. Worse, he did it all in the name of helping us and loving his sons. Now he had the chance to make it right. His wife and his sons had all told him they would love him no matter what it was and that they would get through it together. Yet John still hadn’t opened up about what was really going on.
John had been by to visit once since I’d been at Brock’s. Sheridan hadn’t let him in, and she’d come back crying after their brief exchange at the door. All I’d heard of their conversation was Sheridan telling John that if he loved her, he would do the right thing by his family. He’d responded that he was doing exactly that by keeping silent. He had gotten out a heartfelt “I love you” before she’d slammed the door on him. After that, Sheridan had scrubbed the house from top to bottom even though it was already immaculate. Brock’s military training had made him a neat freak.
Sheridan grabbed the remote and clicked it, making Brock’s state-of-the-art giant flat screen come to life across the room. She scooted closer to me, and I found myself resting my head on her shoulder. I felt this connection to her that I couldn’t explain. It was different than any other female connection, even the one I had with Grandma. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Grandma with all that I was. But Grandma wasn’t always as gentle as Sheridan was. Grandma had to be tough with me at first because I wasn’t the most pleasant of humans when I’d come into their lives. I’d needed the firm, yet loving, hand she’d given me. And Grandma’s generation was cut from a different mold. Feelings were a luxury when she’d grown up. Not to say Grandma hadn’t been better than her own parents—she was. Grandma was my greatest champion and my saving grace. Sheridan, though, was soft in word and deed. She made me feel so accepted and loved. She had a mother’s heart, and she shared it with me. I wanted to be like her.