“I’m okay with that.” Kit held up the bullet. “I’m not okay with this.”
Rocco took the stairs up to the den, intending to show the doctor to the door, then get back to work. Sounded like a good plan, but when he reached the living room, Dr. Kimble was chatting with Zavi. Wynn was standing nearby.
“Papa!” Zavi ran to him. He picked his boy up and hugged him. “Uncle Kit got me out of school to meet the doctor.” Zavi leaned back to look at Rocco. “Dr. Kimble doesn’t give shots, so you don’t have to be afraid of him.”
Rocco smiled, then set him down.
“C’mon, Zavi. Back to class for you,” Wynn said, reaching out a hand, but Zavi had already skipped ahead.
Rocco turned his focus to the shrink. “Dr. Kimble.”
“You have an awesome son.”
Rocco ignored that. “Why are you here?”
“Your friends were worried about you.”
Rocco sighed. That fucking bullet.
“Would you like to take a walk outside? It’s a beautiful day. I find the sunshine to be a marvelous mood enhancer.”
Rocco gritted his teeth. Might as well give Kimble his hour. It was easier than dealing with a pissed-off Kit. He walked over and opened one of the French doors, holding it for the doctor. They went across the patio and out onto the lawn.
“I’ve driven past this estate many times over the years, but I’ve never been up here. It’s even more impressive up close.”
Rocco didn’t say anything. Small talk was a waste of time.
“Tell me about the bullet, Rocco.”
“It’s a bullet, doc, like any other.”
“No, it’s not. It’s your bullet. The one with your name on it. I had one of those.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn cartridge. “I still have it. It reminds me every day of the choice I made.”
Rocco still said nothing. He wasn’t so easily baited.
“Let’s talk about death. It’s walking along with us; might as well not ignore it.”
“I don’t want to talk about death.”
“Why not? We all die, sooner or later. No need to fear it. It’s a natural part of life.”
Rocco stayed quiet.
“The people who love you are afraid you want to check out early. Do you?”
Rocco shoved his hands into his pockets. His sigh was heavy. “No.” He looked over at the old guy. Age had taken some of his stature, but his blue eyes were still sharp. “You think you can save me.”
Kimble smiled. “No, not really. Only you can do that.”
“How many people in this little podunk town have you saved from suicide?”
Kimble tilted his head and thought about that. “In Wolf Creek Bend? A handful. But I’ve counseled thousands, sometimes more than once.” He looked at Rocco. “I volunteer three nights a week for a suicide prevention hotline. I like to think I’ve helped them. Sadly, I have more repeat clients than I’d hoped. But I’ve really only saved one person: me.” Kimble stopped walking. “Why do you want to die, Rocco?”
An image flashed through Rocco’s mind of his dead infant alone in heaven, abandoned by her mother. Moisture pooled in his eyes. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth. It hurt too goddamned much.
“It’s safe, you know, to tell me.”
No, it wasn’t.
Kimble started walking again. “Let’s say that living or dying is your choice, and yours alone.” He sent Rocco a quick glance. “It isn’t, you know. But let’s say it is, for the sake of our discussion. What provisions have you made for your son once you’re gone?”
“My girlfriend, Mandy, will take care of him.”
“No, he’ll automatically become a ward of the state. He has no blood relatives in this country, right? He might be sent back to Afghanistan to live with relatives there. Or Mandy could petition the state to be his foster mother, and after that, perhaps, to adopt him. But those things take time. So not only will the ones you love have to deal with losing you, but they’ll have to deal with the heartache of losing Zavi, too.”
Rocco frowned. Once the government got its hands on Zavi, they wouldn’t let go. They already knew what his linguistic skills were. They would raise him to be a tool against their enemies. His boy would live in his father’s hell. “Mandy can adopt him.”
“Perhaps, but that would be difficult, since you aren’t married. Maybe you could appoint her as Zavi’s guardian in the event something happens to you, but that takes time…time your bullet doesn’t want you to take.”
Rocco sighed. He did have some shit he had to put in order.
“I tell you what.” The doc stopped and looked at him. “While you get your affairs in order, you agree to see me every day. And we’ll swap bullets. You hold mine, and I’ll hold yours. When you want it back, you can have it. Until then, we’ll see if we can unscramble this. Maybe there’s another solution.”
“Okay.”