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Leave it to Maia, who is going through the hardest shit right now, to still mama bear everyone else. Then again, I guess I get that. It’s a coping mechanism, a way to maintain control when you otherwise feel powerless.
“Okay.” Maia’s hand on mine makes me realize I’ve clenched my hands into fists with my fingernails digging into my palms. She’s right, I’m not okay. “I’m a mess. I’m angry and scared and filled with horrible memories. And regret. I… I haven’t tried with Braden this past year. When I heard those words in your bedroom, I hated myself. If he died with things such a mess between us…” I pause and shake my head. “Anyway, I’m thankful he’s awake, but I don’t know where to start with healing. I’m still pissed as hell at him.”
“Welcome to the club,” she says with a soft smile.
“I didn’t realize how much not having his friendship was affecting me. I compartmentalized that, I think.”
“Why?”
My gaze is hesitant. It’s not her fault, but I was trying to stand by her. I let that override my own feelings.
“Oh…” Her voice is hushed and pained.
My hand brushes hers and I muster a small smile. “I made a choice and I have to deal with the consequences now—a broken relationship with him. Not that I’m the only one to blame.”
“You’ll get there. If you both want to, I really think you can.”
I nod and she scooches closer, knowing none of what I just said compares to the deeper hurt inside me.
“Tell me.”
These are the words that make my chest shudder and my breathing hitch. “I almost had a couple of anxiety attacks that first night. I know I was never in the hospital with either of my parents after the accident, but it brought up all those emotions. The thought of losing someone else? Especially in a similar way? And—fuck—him driving drunk?” I slam my hand on the table. Maia runs hers over the top of mine in wordless support that makes me feel safe to continue. “The hardest part is that this has brought up questions about the accident my biological parents were in. Did my mom die on impact? Or did she come to the hospital first? Did my father—Marty—know? Did people come say goodbye to her? There’s so much I don’t know—that I’m not sure I want to know—but I can’t stop thinking about it. Did my mom suffer?” My voice trembles, and Maia wraps her arms tightly around me.
“I can’t imagine how difficult that is for you. Especially sitting in the waiting room when there’s nothing else to think about. I can’t thank you enough for being here for me. If you want to find out any of those answers, I’ll hold your hand the whole time. If you feel like you’re going to have an anxiety attack, please tell me. Let me help you the way you always help me.”
I drop my head against hers and look into her gorgeous bronze eyes. “I promise. God, I love you.” I press my lips against hers as she reaches up and swipes a tear off my cheek.
Harper makes a ravenous squawk from her stroller—what Maia likes to call her velociraptor noise.
We both laugh and turn to look at her. Her big hazel eyes are demanding as she flails her hands and shouts a syllable that sounds like the middle of the word pancake.
I quickly cut up more pancake and put it on her tray, leaving her cooing happily as she shoves handfuls into her mouth.
When I turn back to Maia, she’s smiling at me reverently, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. She quickly kisses my cheek, then rests her head on my shoulder.
She was right. I did need to talk. I didn’t realize, but just saying the words out loud took some of their weight away. Feeling lighter, I wrap my hand around hers, and we both turn back to eating our breakfasts.
