Page 58 of It Was Always You

She jumps a little, lost in blowing her nose. Her sparkly eyes are lined with red.

“What’s going on?”

She waves her hands in front of her, fanning her face. “I’m always such a sap for happy moments.” She laughs, fighting through her tears. “I just . . .” she trails off, reaching a hand out to wrap around my arm and pull me into a tight hug. “It’s so good to have you back with us.”

My heart swells, and I wrap my arms around her to pull her in closer. “I don’t know if I ever had the chance to truly thank you, for everything you did for me.”

It isn’t every day that someone is willing to let a lost teenage girl move into their house, one that they had only known for a few years, a flight risk from a dysfunctional family. Yet they took me in, treated me as one of their own children, cooked my meals, gave me a room, and paid my way.

My dad was on-board with me moving in with them, he immediately called Emmett’s dad and offered to send money each month to cover my living expenses. They declined, but my dad sent it anyway. The day I left to move to New Mexico with my dad, Pat tucked an envelope in my purse and told me to read it on the plane.

Inside that envelope was the most gut-wrenching, heartfelt letter anyone had ever written to me. They also included a check. Emmett’s parents had set aside the money that my dad had been sending each month in an account for me, matching the amount with their own once I graduated so I could have a cushion while attending college. I bawled my eyes out for the last two hours of my flight, wondering if I would ever meet people who were as loving and gracious as the Owens family. The gesture meant everything to me as a teenager, and now that I'm an adult, the full realization of their care isn’t lost on me.

“We’ve always loved you, honey. Since the first day you came over after school, you have been in our hearts.”

My nose stings. I never considered myself a happy crier; it must be contagious.

I pull back, swiping a lone tear from my face. Wanting to open up to her but feeling a sickness in the pit of my stomach as I say my next words. “I’m sorry I ignored you.”

When Emmett called and broke the news to me about his engagement and baby, I wanted to disappear. I had cut off all contact with him, and I knew I couldn’t stay friends with his mom. The few times she called me after that, I’d end it early, finding some excuse to need to hang up. Slowly but surely, I stopped responding to her texts and let her calls go to voicemail, only to go unanswered. I knew it would break her heart, but what could I have done? Did I expect to stay close to her, call her to vent about my day, about a terrible date I went on? Did we expect I’d go over to their house for dinner when I was in the city with the whole family? There would have been a big, ugly elephant in the room during every call, every visit. Eventually, she would have had to choose sides, and I would have lost her anyways.

She reaches up to swipe another tear. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I understand.” She looks over my shoulder at Emmett, another smile crossing her face before she turns back to me. “I knew how you felt about him, how you two looked at each other when the other wasn’t looking.”

A screech interrupts her as Allie runs through the kitchen, wearing a different princess gown that already has a cape, tapping everyone with her wand as she casts spells.

I follow her as she runs around the island and back into the living room, screaming. She jumps onto Emmett’s chest, he catches her with a grunt and flies backwards, landing on his back and letting her tickle him.

My heart bursts at the sight of those two, so thankful he’s back, that he’s mine, and I get to be the one he saves his smiles for.

“He’s loved you since you were kids,” Patricia says, ripping my attention back toward her. “He’s loved you since you first met. I remember . . .” She smiles at the memory. “I remember the day he came home from school, and said he met a new girl with wild hair who said whatever was on her mind. He couldn’t get enough.”

Love.

It shouldn’t surprise me so much to hear her say she thinks he loves me. He’s made his feelings about me clear since he’s been back, but love isn’t something we’ve discussed.

Do you discuss love?

Lord knows I love him. I don’t know when it first happened; was it when we first met? The night he picked me up and convinced me not to run away? When he insisted on picking me up every night from my part-time job so I wouldn’t have to walk home in the dark? Or was it when he drove all night, sacrificing work and sleep to spend a few hours with me the day of my mom’s funeral?

I’ve never told anyone I’ve loved them. I don’t count my parents because that was said out of routine. Icaredabout them; I certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to them, but it doesn’t feel the same as what I feel for him. I loved my parents because it was ingrained in me that you are supposed to love your family. Loving someone who isn’t forced to choose you is completely different.

“When he was with her,” Patricia says, squeezing my hand, “he lost his spark.

“I know he was happy to have Allie. But before we knew the truth about . . . her. He wasn’t the same. He never said it aloud, but I know he always imagined it would have been you some day.”

The rest of her words fade out as the burning in my throat increases, tears stinging my eyes. What a painful thing for a mom to have to go through, to see her son with someone he didn’t love, to wonder if he missed his chance to be happy.

She lets go of my hand to dab at her eyes, laughing at herself. “You’ll have to forgive me. I always get so sappy over the holidays.” Her eyes briefly flit over my shoulder before she whips around and opens a cabinet. “Emmett, dear, where do you keep the blender, I think I need to whip up some of my special grasshoppers!” I feel his warm presence behind me as he rests a hand on my lower back. Keeping my head down, I excuse myself and rush to the half bath under the staircase. Once the door is safely locked behind me, I close the toilet seat and sit down, letting the tears that had built up under my lids fall. I let myself feel it all for a few minutes, the pain of losing him, the relief at finally having him in my life, the realization that I love him.

I love him,I love him, I love him. And I never want to let him go.

Swiping at my face, I stand and let the cool water run, cupping it in my hands as I splash my face a few times, breathing deeply. Wiping the water away with a hand towel, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is especially wild today, the cold winter wind and dry air have teamed together and I’m starting to resemble Carrot Top again. I run some water over my hands and shake it off, trying to smooth some of the curls before I decide to twist my hair up in a bun on the top of my head.

Turning to open the door, I’m surprised to be met with my favorite thick chest.

Emmett is standing there, one arm up and leaning his forearm against the frame of the door, the other resting on his hip. His brows are pulled together in concern.

“Since when did you start listening to me pee?” I tease, approaching him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I rest my head on his chest, listening to thethump thump thumpof his steady heart. He takes the hand from his hip and wraps it loosely around my lower back.

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