Lissa Manley - Her Small-Town Sheriff

“I know, and you’ve been superhuman in the past, believe me. But that routine isn’t working now, and your daughter is struggling. Don’t you think you need to get some help to deal with your grief—to heal—so you can give her what she needs and deserves?”

More guilt loaded on. How could he have gone so wrong? “Everything you’ve said is true,” he said. “But honestly, Lily, this feels like a failure to me.” He let out a derisive snort. “I should be able to handle this without some class to show me the way.”

She looked at him, understanding in her brown eyes. “It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.”

“It is in my book,” he replied, swiping a rigid hand through his hair. “I’m a cop, a problem solver. I’m used to stress. I should be able to deal.”

“Well, you’re going to need to get over that misconception for Heidi’s sake.”

For Heidi’s sake.

Those words reverberated in him, hitting home Lily’s point like brass knuckles to the gut. He needed to focus on what was best for Heidi, and she needed him, now more than ever. He’d be a selfish idiot and a neglectful parent not to see that and act on it.

“I’ll do whatever I have to for Heidi,” he said to Lily. Even if doing so meant admitting his weaknesses and attending some touchy-feely counseling class for the next four weeks.

Even though he rather be Tasered, what other choice did he have?

* * *

“So,” Rebecca, the grief-counseling instructor, said from the front of the room. “Does anyone have any questions?”

Phoebe shifted in the small, hard chair set up in a classroom in the basement of the Moonlight Cove Community Church. Thankfully the rest of the grief-management classes would take place in the more comfortable singles’-group lounge, once that room became available next week. Spending any more time in these uncomfortable chairs didn’t really float her boat.

Someone to her left raised their hand and asked about the schedule. Phoebe tapped her pencil on the desk, listening intently, trying to make the most of her time here, even though she’d had to coerce herself to come.

Forcing herself to talk about painful things was always, well, painful, and she felt like she had when she’d gone to the dentist for a root canal.

Fortunately, they had Novocain for a root canal. But for handling grief? No such thing.

When all of the questions had been answered, Rebecca said, “All right. I’ve gone over the basic structure of the course and covered the schedule in depth. Now, if you’ll remember, I mentioned working with a discussion partner outside of class.”

Everyone in the class murmured their assent along with Phoebe.

“Okay, there are twelve of us, and since Randy and Joanna are married and want to be partners, we’ll need to count off by fives to make five groups of two.” She pointed right. “Start here and count off, and then we’ll partner up, get to know each other for a few minutes, and adjourn.”

Everyone dutifully said their number, and Phoebe uttered “five” when it was her turn. The counting hit the back of the room, and the last person to speak—a guy with a vaguely familiar deep voice—said “five” after a pause. The counting ended.

Phoebe drew her eyebrows together. She hadn’t noticed any men in the very back of the room when the class had started…

Gathering up her things, she stood and turned around to see who she’d be working with. Only to be met with the dark, piercing, none-too-happy yet surprised gaze of Sheriff Carson Winters.

She blinked as her heart tripped over itself. Freezing in midmotion as she slung her purse over her shoulder, she almost whacked the woman standing next to her.

Oh, no. What was he doing at a grief-counseling class? His wife had left him and Heidi, yes. Did death of a marriage count? Probably so…

A new depth of empathy grabbed ahold of her and twisted. Automatically, a prayer rose inside of her. Lord, please help the Winterses through this, and give them the strength they’ll need to heal. And help me, too, please. I think I’m going to need it.

Because as a woman out to keep her life on an even track, spending any one-on-one time with the compelling Carson Winters was the very last thing she wanted to do.

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