On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2) Read Online Free

myself for a while. So much for my attempt at human interaction, but at least I tried. Hopefully, my interview will go better.
    As I’d mentioned, my goal after graduation is to become a social worker. I’d love to work in a high school or group home. Despite not having a ton of job-related experience, I have life experience. All I want to do with my life is to help others to not have to experience what both Shawn and I went through. The way I look at it, we’re both victims. And I’ll always wonder if his suicide could have been prevented.
    My biggest inspiration to chase this dream, from having seen firsthand that a difference can be made, is Hillary Jamison. My own social worker.
    After Shawn’s death, it was Hillary who helped me repair my faith in myself, and adjust to my new role as both mom and dad to my sweet Emme. Through active therapy, countless hours of crying, and in the end a friendship, I realized that I wanted to be just like Hillary when I grew up.
    Am I fully healed and believe that my life is perfect and I’ll get a happily ever after with some dream man one day? Absolutely not. I’m still totally messed up emotionally when it comes to the opposite sex and I’m such a chickenshit to even think about getting involved with anyone ever again. I quite honestly could be a friggin’ nun at this point; London is right. ’Cause I have had none in the last four years and I have no real plans on changing that anytime soon. I just can’t allow myself to go through that ache and hurt ever again. How the hell can I ever trust another human male with my heart?
    Hillary insists that I’ll will change my mind, and that I just need to put myself out there more socially. Jeez. Her, London and Grams. I swear they are all in cahoots.
    Hillary is absolutely right about me, though. I never put myself out there at all. Right now my social life consists of the Disney Channel, dress-up with Emmerson and her stuffies, playing euchre with Grams and her gals Tuesday nights, and hanging out with London. I know, I know, I’m thrilling. Sarcasm alert. Clearly, thrilling I am not. I’ve been lame for a while now—but I’m really hoping to change that this year.
    I’ve decided that being in my last year of university and having hid behind Shawn’s death and motherhood for so long, I owe it to myself to start trying to have a good time…well, more of an adult good time. I’m both excited and scared shitless about the prospect of making some changes in my ever-structured routine. But with Grams, London and my Little Miss all cheering me on, I know I can do it. I can become more of a “human” as Grams has so eloquently put it time and time again. However, I constantly struggle with questions like: will people even like me? Accept that my life is a little different than most twenty-two-year olds? Will they want to be friends with a mom?
    Only time will tell, I guess.
    Guilt . Guilt plays a huge role in my daily life. I know I need to move forward but I just can’t seem to stop looking back. I know Shawn never wanted this for me, but I just can’t seem to get past the idea of being with anyone other than him. He was so many of my firsts, so I’m conflicted that he won’t be my lasts. I think because of that, I don’t allow myself to take the risk of falling in love.
    Shawn wrote that he would always watch over our daughter and me and that one day he would bring us our “Knight”. He was clear that he wanted us to be happy over the years to come. I’ve re-read certain parts of his letter repeatedly looking for some justification for his actions, but in turn it only ends up confusing and upsetting me, and making my body and my soul ache to breathe his breath just one last time. These beautifully scrawled words of love coming from my beautifully broken man in the worst time of his life are killer on my being, but I pull the letter from my purse.
    “Wynnie, I promise you will know when I’ve sent the happiness