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Maybe if it was any other day that I was sitting here, eating pie with Hal after a meeting, I’d be able to do it. But I’m a mess today. I know I am. And while I can let Hal see all my ugly, I refuse to let my daughter be witness to it.
And I don’t want Mel to think I’m slipping.
Because I’mnot.
But she might not know that. My past mistakes still have us in its grip.
Abby blows a raspberry, but chirps, “Okay!” like it’s nothing. She scampers off toward the counter, where Tiff sets out some crayons and a paper placemat.
Mel and I share one last look, and I nod, silently reassuring her it’s okay.I’mokay.
She smiles tightly, and gives us a little wave, before turning to join our daughter.
Rubbing my forehead, I grab my coffee and upend the remaining contents down my throat.
I can sense Hal watching me—the disappointment rolling off him in waves.
But when I meet his gaze, all I find is reluctant understanding and a sad, knowing smile that creeps up his cheek, pulling at his weathered skin. He taps the side of his head and says. “Everything we want is in here. But we gotta work for it. Day by day.”
“Day by day?” I repeat skeptically.
He spreads a hand “Second by second if you have to. Until you believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“We deserve good things.”
Everything in me grows eerily still, and a chill creeps over my neck.
Suddenly, I’m thrown back to a different time and place, and my eyes sting recalling hearing and reciting those same words. Remembering a hand clutching mine.
It was my last group therapy session at Black Diamond, and I didn’t even know it. My last bit of normalcy with Skyler, before the rug was pulled out from under us.
In the diner, I fist my hand over the table until I feel my nails piercing my skin.
And quietly, I murmur an echo of what I couldn’t voice last time, “And we deserve love.”
Hal nods strongly and impales his fork into the last remaining piece of his pie, and points it at my untouched plate. “And it starts with pie.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
SKYLER
It’s a cloudy day, making it feel a lot later than mid-morning when I leave New York in the dust.
The winding road is empty, leaving nothing but me and the evergreens caging me in. And beyond them, rolling mountains spread out as far as the eye can see.
It’s all rich green forest and black asphalt and gray skies, and when it starts drizzling, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over me when it hits me.
I made it.
Low rock music crackles from my speakers, the only sound save for the low whoosh and squeak of my windshield wipers, and rattling engine. I’m honestly surprised my car made it all this way, though not without a couple hiccups, which cost me a night in a hotel I really couldn’t afford.
But that’s a problem for Future Skyler.
It’s not like I can take it back now.
My gaslight comes on with a quietbeep,and I reach for my phone in the cupholder. The car’s old and not able to connect to Bluetooth, so I have to manually bring up Siri to ask for directions to the nearest gas station.
