That went on for days, and each day he came in, I would tell myself it would get easier to see him. But it didn’t.

Just like Taylor had said, I had to accept that the constant ache was going to be a part of my day. I couldn’t waste another moment, another tear, on thoughts of him. His life had veered off the path we were on. If he wouldn’t let me forget him, I would learn to live with the pain.

May ended, and June began.

The skies grew hazier every day, and reports on television were circulating the globe. The wildfires in our area were at a peak, the firefighters and hotshot crews seeing more occurrences than they had in a decade. Still, Taylor didn’t miss a lunch—sometimes, coming in as late as two or three, and other days, hurrying in while covered in soot and sweat.

By mid-July, Chuck and Phaedra were considering banning Taylor from the restaurant, but no one could justify it. He never caused a ruckus, he always ordered a meal, he always paid and tipped well, and he was always polite. He never approached me or even tried to initiate conversation.

Taylor would simply show up, waiting patiently for me to give in.

The Bucksaw had been closed for half an hour, and Kirby and I had just finished our nightly duties when Phaedra broached the subject of how to handle Taylor.

“You can’t ban him for loving Falyn,” Kirby said, disgusted with our conversation.

“It’s just not natural,” Phaedra said. “And it damn well isn’t healthy for either of them. He’s got a baby on the way. He needs to be preparing for that.”

I agreed.

“He’s a good kid, Phaedra,” Chuck said. “He misses her. He’ll go back to Estes after the season, the baby will come in December, and he’ll be busy.”

Kirby pouted. “You’re being cruel.”

“Kirby,” Phaedra warned.

“I have always been honest with him. I want nothing to do with adoption,” I said.

“But this is his child!” Kirby screeched.

“You don’t understand,” I snapped.

“No, you’re right. I don’t,” she said. “But that’s because it makes no sense.”

“We might be talking about his child, but it poses the same risks as adoption—risks I’m not emotionally capable of taking. She could come back. She could want joint custody or full custody. She could win, Kirby, and she could take the baby to California. I’m not willing to lose another child.”

She paused. “What do you mean … another child?”

I covered my face.

Phaedra put her hands on my shoulders. “Falyn had a baby just after high school. She gave her daughter up.”