“Come on, a penny for your thoughts.”
Perry looked away. “You can probably guess what I’m thinking about.”
“Trina...or Flick?”
“Both. It seems I can’t think of one without the other. I hate that they are so intertwined in my head.” For hours, Perry’s mind had run in circles: Trina, Flick, Adabelle...Trina, Flick, Adabelle. He realized he wanted a drink. And with Flick dead his vow to avoid liquor was no longer a barrier. The alcohol would soothe his nerves and, hopefully, quiet his brain.
“Perry, you’ve been through hell. And I realize I don’t know the entire story, but I know enough to say that. You were faced with one of the worst things a human can endure—the death of a spouse. You chased Flick for years, with him one step ahead. And now you got him. Your mind and body are struggling to deal with this new normal, trying to release years of built-up stress and toxicity.”
Perry nodded. “I know you’re right. I just don’t know how to deal with that.”
“It doesn’t sound like you ever had a chance to truly heal. You need to take some time, perhaps by going on a retreat of some kind.”
“A retreat, huh?” Perry considered this. It didn’t sound all bad, although it was an idea he probably would have ridiculed not all that long ago.
“You won, Perry. You got the son of a bitch. Now you must figure out how to live life without that pushing you forward. If you don’t, it will destroy you.”
He glanced over at Adabelle. She was looking at him with a compassion so deep that Perry felt like bursting into tears. She reached out her hand and he took it, her touch like fire.
“I believe in you, Perry Hall,” she said.
And for the first time in a long time, Perry believed in himself.