Page 136 of Run to Me

“Don’t be silly. You’re acting like we pushed you aside or something. Where is this coming from?”

I unclench my teeth after being called silly and tighten my grip on the chair to rein in my anger. “I wasn’t pushed aside, Mom. You just forgot I was there. And please don’t ever call me silly again. Every time you say it, you belittle my feelings, not that you’ve ever cared about how I felt.”

Tears well in her eyes, but I find it hard to believe they’re meant for me. “I’m sorry if it seems like I don’t care. I do. I’ve just been going through a difficult time.” In a panic, she shuffles a few papers around and clears a space at the table. “Do you want to sit down and talk about this? I don’t want to lose you too.”

My jaw drops open, but I snap it shut. Ignorance must be bliss if she believes our relationship has any substance, any value that makes it worth salvaging in its present state. The “difficult time” she mentions has lasted twenty-nine years on my end. It’s too late for her to make excuses now, and she can’t blame a lifetime of negligence on her recent health problems.

In my gentlest tone possible, holding back my sass and snark, I ask, “Can you call someone walking away a loss if you didn’t cherish the person in the first place?”

She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. “I’m sorry, Maisy.”

My wilted smile is sympathetic, resigned. “Me too, Mom. Take care of yourself.”

Shutting the front door with a soft snick, I glance at the wooden bench and nod once, satisfied with my new never. I never have to look at this damn bench again. It’s a reminder of the day I cast aside the person who loved me most, same as my parents did to me. How lucky am I that Jensen kept loving me regardless?

Back in my bedroom at Pam’s house, I open the banker box Tatum delivered to the bed-and-breakfast when everything crumbled. At least a dozen journals are packed inside. I flip through a few of them, seeing page after page of Jensen’s neat handwriting.

Nestled under the covers with the sunlight pouring through the window, I read every letter he wrote to me during the thirteen years we were apart.

51

BIRDIE

Birdie,

Happy seventeenth birthday. It’s been one year, three months, and eleven days since you last spoke to me. Maybe you never will again, but I’ll keep talking to you through these letters. I miss hearing your voice.

I miss you. -J

Birdie,

You graduated yesterday. I watched you walk across the stage. Why does it feel like those were your last steps in Walford?

-J

I messed up. Really bad. When Jake finds out what I’ve done, he’ll hate me. I hate myself right now. Where are you, Maisy? I need you.

Birdie,

Congrats on finishing cosmetology school. I heard you moved to California to be with Tate. I should be happy that you’re spreading your wings, but I’m not. Sometimes I hate you. Other times, I feel…I don’t know…lost.

-J

Vera said you came home for one night. One fucking night. Is this how it’s gonna be? Once a year…sneaking in and out of town like a thief? Yes, you’re a thief. You stole something of mine when we were kids. I want it back.

-J

Birdie,

When I picture you in my mind, you’re smiling. When was the last time you smiled, Maisy? Other than in my dreams.

-J

Birdie,

I saw you on TV again with Tate. You’re more beautiful than ever. I like the green highlights in your hair. Bright and bold suits you. Don’t ever change.

I still miss you. -J