Lani lost it then, and for long minutes she could only sob, tissues magically appearing in her hand.
“I can help you,” Maura said, her soft tone cutting through the roaring in Lani’s ears. “I can help you because I’ve been right where you are. I know everything you’re feeling, everything you tell yourself. It gets better. I promise you, it’ll get better.”
Mopping her eyes, Lani sucked deep breaths, in and out, as she fought for control. “I want to get better,” she croaked. “I want to let go of the anger. I want to stop blaming myself. I w-want to be a good mom.”
“You will be.” With one last pat to her shoulder, Maura moved over to sit in her chair again. “The only thing we’re going to focus on in here is you. Tyler is gone, and we’re not going to analyze his death anymore. We want to grieve his absence and celebrate who he was—a beloved brother to you for fourteen years.”
Lani picked up her teacup again, not to drink, but to hug the comforting warmth close. “He was so smart,” she croaked. “Funny, kind. He had goals, and dreams. He l-loved me...”
Maura leaned forward and waited for her to meet her eyes.
“Yes. A life worth remembering,” she said softly. “A life not defined by that moment in time, that choice he made in the midst of a pain you couldn’t have known about or understood. Assuming responsibility for his death invalidates that pain, and his desperate need for relief from it.”
Another sob welled up in Lani’s throat.
“No amount of self-blame can change that outcome. No amount of analyzing it is going to help you understand it. You know the how, but you’re never going to know the why. You’re never going to know the why, Lani.”
Lani started to shake.
“Accepting that is the first step toward healing, and we’re going to take a thousand steps together, you and me. As many as it takes, okay?”
All Lani could do was nod, the tears dripping from her chin.
“You’re not alone, my dear. You’re not alone.”
* * *
God, she needed to pee.
Lani hurried up the walk toward her apartment building, the bags of Chinese food she juggled emitting the most mouthwatering smell.
And all the tea she’d drunk at Maura’s sloshing painfully around in her bladder.
Even the brush of the light sea breeze over her skin hurt, everything still raw from the emotional therapy session, and the only thing she wanted to do was curl up in her pj’s to watch reruns of Friends while she chowed down on some good, old-fashioned comfort food.
Ah, the sweet, sweet relief.
After washing her hands, she trudged toward her bedroom, her old friend—self-pity—doing its best to rear its ugly head. Forever alone. Maybe I need to get a damn dog.
The thought made her roll her eyes at herself. “Yeah, right,” she said aloud. “A dog and a baby to take care of. Good plan.”
Still...having a furry little body to snuggle up to at night and give her unconditional doggie love sounded infinitely appealing. Human love, after all, was vastly overrated.
She’d just settled down on the couch, the different cartons of food arrayed before her on the coffee table, remote in hand, when her phone buzzed. With a sigh, she muted the TV and grabbed it. Hopefully it was just a robocall that she could decline and move on, because that Kung Pao was really calling her name...
The screen said Geo.
Her breath caught.
“Hey, Geo,” she answered, praying that she sounded natural and breezy and not like her heart was threatening to pound its way out of her chest. Which it totally was.
“Hey, you.”
Oh, hello, sexy voice. Lani shivered.
“Did you go today?”
Surprised that he’d actually remembered the date of her appointment, she croaked, “Yep, I did.”
“Good for you. How, uh, was it?”
“Well, honestly, it sucked like you wouldn’t believe.”
He gave an audible wince. “Yikes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My therapist warned me I’d feel worse before I feel better.” Lani put her legs up on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankle. “There’s ten years’ worth of shit to unpack, you know.”
He didn’t reply, his sudden discomfort radiating through the phone, along with the awkwardness of two strangers separated by hundreds of miles being confronted with a difficult topic. Taking pity on him, she changed the subject. “What’re you doing in Arizona?”
“Desert training.” He grunted. “It’s about a bazillion degrees here, which is good practice for us since we’ll eventually be going, um—”
“To a galaxy far, far away?”
“Yeah.” His relief at not being pressed on exactly where rang in his voice. “You understand that I can’t say, right?”
“Of course I do. OPSEC, the subject of every pre-deployment family meeting ever.”
Geo’s chuckle this time sounded much more genuine, and the husky sound brushed along her skin, tightening her nipples and making her breasts ache. She cupped her hand over one and squeezed.
Ugh. Stupid hormones.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “How’s Bosch?”
“He’s good. Chilling in his crate.”
“Is he there right now?”
“Yep. Right next to my bed.”
She could hear rustling, as if Geo was moving around on crisp sheets. She shoved away the visual. “He doesn’t sleep with you?”
“Nah, he’s not my pet. When we’re home, he lives in the base kennels, not with me. On the road, he has a crate.”
“How long have you worked with him?”
“About three years.”
“Did you pick him or did he pick you? Or didn’t you have a choice?”
“I had a choice, and shit, that first day was insane.” He paused, and Lani heard what sounded like him punching up his pillows. “Sorry. Just getting comfortable.”
A frisson of warmth went through her at the thought of him settling down in bed to talk to her. Stretching up to turn the table lamp off, she curled up on her side on the couch, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. The TV flickered silently in front of her, the Friends gang drinking their coffee and laughing.
“So I walked into this kennel,” Geo said, “and was immediately overwhelmed by what seemed like hundreds of barking, whirling, high-energy dogs. I, uh, was actually afraid of a few.”