He nodded, a little bit of the steel returning to his spine. “My mother.”
“Nobody’s saying you need to be strong right now,” she told him, and for some reason those words cut straight down to the bone. He started crying—loud and ugly and out of control—hugging his own arms, hurting like his heart was about to rip in two.
The deputy put her hand on his knee, squeezing. “You don’t have to be strong,” she repeated. “You just have to be. Just have to get up every morning, be with your mom, and take turns with her day to day, being the one with their shit together, you know?”
He didn’t know, not yet. But it seemed he’d find out soon.
“It will stop feeling like this,” she told him. “It won’t ever stop hurting, but it won’t always feel like this. You’ll always have the memory. A scar. But the wound will heal.”
He looked to the bag, which had fallen to the floor between his feet. He picked it up, held it out. “I’m not ready for this.”
She accepted it. “Tell me where I can leave it, for when you decide you are ready.”
He thought about it. “In the kitchen, just around the corner. On top of the hutch.”
She disappeared for a few moments, then returned and took her seat once more. “Now, is there anything I can do? For you or your mother?”
He shook his head. “No, we’ll be okay.”
Another gentle smile. “It’s okay if you’re not, for a little while.”
Tears stung anew, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand.
“I’ll give you my card,” she said, reaching into her breast pocket. “In case you think of anything.”
He took it. “Thanks.”
“I can see myself out,” she said, poised to stand.
“Wait.”
She met his eyes, settled back down with her hands clasped patiently on her thighs.
“Did you know Alex?” he asked her. “Alex Dunn?”
She shook her head. “That was before my time. I was transferred shortly after he passed.”
Something cold dropped into Miah’s stomach. “Oh. Were you his replacement?”
“It’s not that simple. A lot of people got shifted around after your sheriff was arrested. But I suppose I was, in a way. You knew him?” she asked. “Alex?”
“Since we were kids.”
“His colleagues have only good things to say about him,” she offered.
Miah nodded. For all Alex’s flaws, he’d been an excellent deputy. He looked down, feeling exhausted and strange and a little high. “What the fuck’s happening to this town?” he asked the hallway at large.
“Change,” the deputy—Nicki—said.
“Not for the better,” he muttered.
She didn’t reply. Miah glanced up, finding a sad smile on her face.
“Thanks,” he said, and tried to let the bitterness go.
“My job,” she said, standing. Miah did the same. “You take care of yourself. And your mother. She’ll try to do all the healing for the both of you. But you step in and take over when you’re up to it, okay? Us mamas, sometimes we need our sons to fill their father’s shoes. But only when you’re up for it.”
He nodded, though filling his father’s shoes . . . He doubted he could ever fit in them. His dad’s steps had felt as long and wide as canyons since he’d been a tiny kid. Looking like the man didn’t make Miah his equal. “How old is your son?” he asked the deputy.
“Nine.”
“He ever have to be the man of the house?”
She smiled deeper, eyes crinkling. “More often than I care to admit. But he does me proud, same as you’ll do for your own mother.”
He tried to smile back, not feeling so sure.
“Take care, Miah.” And she turned once more and opened the door, closed it softly behind her.
Chapter 28