But even as I make the promise, the parallel haunts me. My mother chose passionate, destructive love over her child. I’m choosing the opposite.
As sleep tugs at me, a quiet voice rises from somewhere deep inside:
What if the home Anna deserves... isn’t the one we’re walking back into?
2021
Love sits on her chest like a bird waiting in the wind,
singing its truth to her daughter's sleeping face.
What if she breaks the only thing worth saving?
Seventeen
Youknowwhat’shardto swallow?
Knowing what it’s like to have someone help you, care for you, see you. Then losing it. Going back to loneliness. Constantly having to take care of yourself with no one to lean on.
It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to slip back into the mask of indifference I’d worn for thirty-eight years. That James had dug his way so deep into my heart, it would be impossible to ignore everything I was missing.
Now I know something better exists. And I can’t pretend I’m fine anymore.
I stare at the cabin, shadows gliding through the windows. Outside, the wind whips off the mountains, rattling the evergreen branches. The midday sun bounces off the snow-dusted peaks, scattering diamonds of light across a washed-out blue sky.
It’s been three hundred and seventy days since I ran from his confessions.
When I left, a small, foolish part of me expected to fall back into life with Mason. I thought time and distance might mend the widening rift between us. But as days bled into weeks, weeks into months, the void never changed. Margaret and Gary flew down regularly to spend weekends with us, and I soaked up Margaret’s presence, yet it never closed the ache in my heart.
And no matter how hard I try, the old numbness I used to rely on for survival won’t surface.
Cold wind lashes my face as Anna buries hers against my chest. Snowflakes kiss my cheeks, melt against my lashes. I let myself feel it all and summon the courage to step inside because I know who will be there.
James.
The man who has haunted every quiet hour of the night. The reason I haven’t slept in weeks, every restless hour leading up to this trip filled with thoughts of him.
This past summer, when the family got together for the Fourth at the cabin, he didn’t come. A work conflict, supposedly. Ivy, though, glowed. She couldn’t stop gushing about their romantic vacation to the south of France: beaches, tiny villages, and romantic dinners all painting a picture of a deepening connection. I walked away when she started giving Jules the sordid details. Jules watched me closely every time Ivy brought him up, but she never asked more about what happened that day last winter.
No matter how hard I’ve tried to bury the ache, seeing him again feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for a gust of wind strong enough to finally push me over.
The door swings shut behind me, and my steps falter.
The first person I see is him.
His gaze meets mine, sweeps over me from head to toe. The air crackles. I bite my lip, waiting for his dimple, for a smile, any sign. But his mouth hardens, the corners turn down. He gives a slight shake of his head and turns away. He dismisses me as if I’m nothing and places his hand at the small of Ivy’s back.
And Ivy—she’s glowing. Her fingers flutter as she raises her hand. A sparkle on her finger catches the light.
A goddamn diamond ring.
He fucking proposed.
My lungs forget how to function. My brain stutters, stunned by the realization, even as the room erupts around me. Ivy’s delighted laugh rings out as she extends her hand for everyone to admire.
A small, involuntary sound escapes me as I try to suck in air.
Everyone turns. The laughter stops. All eyes land on me.
