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“At least it’s not snowing,” I tease, at least grateful for that. “And this was your idea.”
“You love the rain.”
“I love a lot of things.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me some,” he says, his voice light with amusement.
I inwardly roll my eyes when a woman walks past, looking at us like we’re something she wiped off her shoe.
When she’s out of hearing range, I giggle. “Did you see her face?”
He scoffs. “Couldn’t miss it. With the way she was looking, you’d think we were sitting on her front doorstep.”
“Why are we here, again?”
“You said you wanted to see the park.”
“When it’s not raining,” I tell him.
“Do you want to go?”
“No!” I tell him quickly, before he decides to pack up. Once I realise how desperate I sound, I clear my throat. “I mean, no. It’s not like we’re getting wet. Much. And we have three blankets around us, and we’re sitting on a plastic mat.”
“Don’t forget the legendary umbrella.”
I laugh when I look at the umbrella he’s dug into the ground between our legs, so it doesn’t blow over. When he pulled it out of the car, I thought he’d lost his mind. He’s lucky it’s not as windy as it was last night, or he would be saying bye-bye to it.
“Where did you get it?”
“Mum left it the last time she came to watch a game.”
“When is your next game?”
“Not until spring.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, looking out at the park. Even dreary and wet the place looks beautiful. I wish I could draw, because there’s a little girl holding her mother’s hand, wearing bright yellow rain boots and splashing in puddles. It’s a beautiful sight to see; something I wish I had memories of as a child.
I must have sighed because Banner places his hand on my leg. “You okay?”
Still watching the little girl, I answer him. “I wish I had that as a child.”
I feel his gaze look her way. “Splashing in puddles?”
“Yeah. I used to lie in bed all the time thinking of something,anything, to remember a time when my parents loved me. I remember them sitting through Lara’s plays and clapping, I remember them taking her ice-skating for her thirteenth birthday, but not once do I remember something they did with me. I’d have wished for anything to cherish. Even a moment of splashing in puddles. But I don’t have one. After Lara, and then Darren attacking me, I tried to find reasons as to why I should love them. They’re my parents, and I do care for them—I’ll be sad if something were to happen to them—but I’ve stopped feeling love for them. They’re strangers to me now.”
He pulls me tighter against him, kissing the top of my head. I close my eyes, forcing the tears threatening at bay.
“Emma, your parents fucked up when it came to you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but your sister wasn’t perfect. They treated her like a princess instead of disciplining her.”
I give him a sharp look. “What are you trying to say?”
He drops the blanket and scrubs a hand down his face. “I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me,” I tell him, feeling my throat tighten.
He looks doubtful, making me wary. “Lara did drugs before she got them off Darren. My mum caught her buying some in town and called your parents. They called my mum a liar, and the next day at school, Lara was flashing off a new phone and bragging about the clothes she had got.”
My eyes widen when something registers. “Wait! I think that was the day they sent me off to my grandparents for the week, saying I was a bad influence on her. I was supposed to be with her that day she went into town, but I needed to go to the library to pick up some books. I got back, and they told me I had to go my grandparents.”
