Page 163 of Where We Stay

Courtney nods before taking a breath. “I want to start seeing her more consistently.”

My shoulders tense. “How consistently?”

“I thought we could give her set days.” Courtney watches me carefully. “Maybe Wednesday afternoons after school and Sunday afternoons. That way she knows when she’ll see me instead of waiting for me to turn up.”

I study her face. It’s the first thing she’s suggested since returning that sounds like she’s actually thought about what would be best for Aspen.

“That could work,” I say cautiously. “But the visits stay supervised for now. Either at my parents’ house or with me there.”

“I understand.”

“And we ask Aspen before deciding anything.”

“Of course.”

“If you need to cancel, you tell me before you tell her,” I add. “I’m not having her spend days waiting for something that isn’t happening.”

Courtney’s expression tightens, but she nods. “I won’t cancel.”

“Don’t promise that. Things happen.” I take a drink of my beer. “Just don’t make promises to her unless you know you can keep them.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I can do that.”

“Good.”

I take another drink, hoping that signals the end of the conversation.

Apparently, it doesn’t.

Courtney studies me for a moment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I grunt.

“Dean, I was with you for half my life.” She folds her arms across her chest. “You’ve never been able to lie for shit.”

“I’m tired.”

“This isn’t about me, is it?” Her expression shifts. “What happened with Blair?”

“Nothing happened with Blair.”

Courtney raises one eyebrow. “You look fucking miserable.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

I release a frustrated breath and set my beer on the counter. “She was upset when I picked her up on Tuesday. I asked what was wrong, she said nothing, and I kept pushing.”

“Of course you did,” Courtney mutters.

My eyes narrow. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve always done that, Dean. You see a problem and immediately start figuring out how to fix it.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to help?” I ask defensively.

“Nothing, when someone wants your help.” Courtney lowers herself onto the edge of the couch. “But when they don’t, it can feel like you’re cornering them.”