But for now, I welcome the work. Otherwise, I’d have too much time to think. And those thoughts would inevitably be about her.

Is it weird to miss taking care of her when all I wanted was for her to recover and no longer need help?

We reach the counter. I set Marigold’s books down and nod to her. “Go on. Like we practiced.”

Her shoulders rise with a deep breath. But instead of saying the words we practiced, she slides the librarian a note like it’s a goddamn bank robbery.

He opens the full-page note and smiles warmly at Marigold. “Aw, what a gorgeous sketch of the library.”

“Read the fine print,” I huff, motioning to the asterisk at the bottom.

He leans into the page, squinting. Then, he laughs. “Ah, I see. This is my first late fee apology sketch.”

“It won’t happen again,” she says quietly.

“No worries.” He takes her card and eyes the computer. “Are you able to pay the… thirty-five cents?”

She nods, setting the prearranged coins on the counter.

He scans her new finds—books on cathedrals and castles to use as inspiration for her next comic book.

A brief smile makes it to her lips—the first I’ve seen since last week when she told me about her overdue books and admitted she couldn’t handle it alone. If not for me agreeing to take care of it with her, I think she never would’ve gone to the library again out of shame. Social interactions are excruciating for her.

For me, too, these days.

The bullshit-shoveling women pass behind us, eyeing me as they go. “Poor Carmela. The Wines and Spines girls’ll be astounded to hear about this.”

“Hey, tell ‘em I said to go fuck themselves,” I call after them.

“Grady, rules,” Marigold tries again.

“Sorry,” I mutter to the librarian.

He shrugs, amused. “Maybe I should institute a swear jar, hmm?”

Marigold chuckles.

Marina’s voice rushes into my thoughts. Relax, Grady.

I’ve tried locking her out, but lately, she breaks in anyway. Sometimes, late in the day, if I’ve been called out for a farm emergency, I hear her. Relax, Grady. I respect those moments like she’s become my inner voice, telling me when to slow down. Set a new pace. Take a breath. Think of what I’ve done.

I drive Marigold to Rebellion, where she’s meeting Mom and Elena for lunch. This would normally be a drop-and-go situation. It’s the clinic’s Friday off, and taking care of Marigold’s library fees was the only family task I agreed to do. I have an afternoon of fishing and beer drinking at home planned. Hanging out with my easygoing bartending brother Luke wouldn’t be bad—he’s tied with Marty for requiring the least from me. But spending time with Mom and Elena doesn’t fit with my quest for relaxation.