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That has to be enough.
I trip over the first stair. And the fourth. It's not like me. Even though all that heavy shit is hanging high in the sky, I don't feel weighed down. It hurts that Mom is gone, that she chose not to spend more time with us.
It hurts that Dad is falling apart.
That he's still leaving to finish Mom's work.
But there's a lightness to letting go of that particular flavor of I need my family together. The Strong family hasn't included Mom and Dad for a long time. This is a shit way for it to happen, but I'm glad I'm finally over the idea of the family being anything but me, Piper, and Ethan.
With Kit, Joel, V
iolet, and even Bella, and maybe Lacey… we have all the family anyone could ever want.
There. Both feet plant on the balcony. It's a few steps to Lacey's door. I take a deep breath then exhale slowly. This is terrifying, but I'm not running from terrifying anymore.
I knock on her door.
"Coming." There's a sound of someone standing. Kicking stuff back in place. Lacey pulls the door open. She stands there in the frame looking up at me. "Mal?"
"Yeah."
"I thought Kit and Piper were picking me up on their way."
"Someone must have asked them not to."
Her lip corner turns up on one side. "Someone…"
"I want to show you something." Two things, actually, but they're at the same place.
"I've already seen you naked."
"You wouldn't want to see it again."
She presses her lips together. Her brown eyes fix on mine. She looks tired. Hurt.
She's been crying. Over me. Because of me. It guts me knowing I'm the one causing her all that pain, but I get it now. That's what happens when you let yourself love someone.
You give them the power to hurt you.
"Mal, I… I don't know." She hugs her chest. "Is it something important?"
"Yeah."
Her fingers brush the sleeves of her black dress. This is a hell of a time to appeal to her feelings for me, but I can't afford to play fair. I need her coming with me.
I need her.
"You trust me?" I ask.
She nods but her expression screams I haven't forgotten how you hurt me.
"Give me one hour."
"Isn't the funeral in an hour?"
"It's at three. We have time." I offer her my hand.
"Time for…"
