Page 157 of Keeping Score

He held up a hand in protest.

“It’s nothing special. Maybe nothing to you at all. But I just figured, if you ever wanted to know if your work matters, you can take a look at this and remember how you changed my life for the better.”

I reached in delicately, pulling out the framed photograph of Mr. Reilly, his children, and Brody.

I stared down, feeling the tears well in my eyes. I held the photo against my chest, touched that he wanted to share this piece of his family with me forever.

“I love it,” I said honestly. “Thank you.”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, shifting on his feet.

“That young man of yours is lucky to have ya,” he said. “And trust an old guy like me, he knows it.”

I laughed. “He’s not—”

“The way he looks at you,” Mr. Reilly nodded in confirmation of something only he seemed to know. “That’s when it’s real for a man.”

“It’s real for me, too.”

“I can tell.” He grinned. “Two kids in love are about the least subtle people in the world. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

I offered a half-smile, holding the picture against my chest.

“Anyway, thank you. Again. I’ll always remember what you did for me.”

And I’ll always remember what you did for me.

Inadvertently, but nevertheless, I had to admit a lot of the reflection in my life as of late had been a direct result of working on his case.

He’d shown me what a father’s love was supposed to look like. He reminded me what I fought for in my career, why my work was important.

And somehow, after all that, I’d realized how utterly stupid I’d been to have spent so much of my life running.

“Thank you, Mr. Reilly,” I told him, knowing he would never understand the depths of my gratitude toward him. “It’s been the absolute honor of my career working with you.”

“Well, I’ll be off then.” He nodded at me. “You take care of yourself, Ms. Brynn. And take care of that young man of yours.”

I couldn’t say anything, so I nodded back at him and watched him go.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Maggie

It was ironic for a girl who feared being alone so much to always end up exactly that, due to her own self-destructive actions.

Hurricane Maggie, a nickname bestowed on me that had more truth than most people probably realized.

I destroyed everything in my path, not because I wanted to, but because some part of me would rather destroy them before they destroyed me.

Trauma responses were a hell of a thing.

I walked out of the office, down the steps, staring only down the block in the spot where Brody used to park his car when he came to pick me up.

It was a nice thing. To look at the clock, knowing my day was almost over and he would be out there waiting for me. Someone to go home to. He had always been the best part of every day.

And in that moment, the thought of never seeing him parked there again made my heart hurt so badly that I shut my eyes tightly so I didn’t have to bear witness to his absence.

“You there,” a voice called from above.