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Her tone is flat, her words smacking me in the face. I never considered that Ethan’s death wasn’t my fault. I’ve spent the last few months tormenting myself because I didn’t see any other possibility, but what if . . . it really wasn’t my fault . . .
I cry against her.
She pats my back. “Ethan was a strong, capable person who made some terrible mistakes. You didn’t make him take off his seatbelt.”
My tears scorch my skin. “If I wasn’t in the car that day, he’d still be here.” The horrible truth is like a poison seeping into every one of my thoughts. The words are thick on my tongue. I hate every last one of them.
She hugs me tighter, and even though normally I would pull away by now, I want it. I want her to squeeze me so tight that she’ll glue me back together.
“Do you realize how many things I wish I could go back and change about that day? If I had just insisted on him driving with us. If I had forced him out the door sooner. If I had asked him to take out the trash first.” I’m drawn to her and her sorrow. For the first time since Ethan died, I don’t feel as alone in my sadness. I feel understood. She laughs into my hair, masking a cry. “If I had just slashed his tires.”
When I try to laugh, I only cry harder. “Can you imagine what he would say if he saw us right now?”
She chuckles. “Is it really that weird for a mother and daughter to hug?”
I pull back and wipe my soaked face on my sleeve. “It is whenI’mthe daughter.”
Images of all the times Ethan tried forcing Mom and me to get along drift into my mind. All our passive aggressive comments that forced him to play mediator. He was good at that. He always knew the right way to talk to both of us.
My face falls again, and I brace my heavy head with a palm on either side. My breathing is jagged, missing beats.
Mom drapes her arm around my shoulders. “What is it?”
“It just—it feels good to laugh about something that Ethan is a part of.” I pull my sleeves up to my palms and curl my fingers around the fabric. “I needed to be reminded.” My head tilts, and I lean further into Mom, nestled into her like a small child. She holds me tight, calm and silent, letting me talk. “Mom?”
She hums in reply, tilting her head to look at me.
I look up at her, taking in her sparkling eyes full of every emotion, and her bright colorful lipstick that never fails to remind me that there are more colors in the world, and the wrinkles that frame her eyes every time she smiles or laughs. “You’re not going to lose me,” I whisper.
She smiles. With tears spotting her eyes again, she nods.
“But.” I lift my head. “Don’t get used to all this mushy stuff.”
Squishing every organ inside my body, she says, “Then I better get my fill now.”
I groan, pushing away. “Mom.”
“Just one more,” she says, pulling me back.
I don’t fight it. “This better hold you over for the next five years.”
“It won’t,” she says with no indication that she’ll let go anytime soon.
A thought pops into my head so hard and fast that I could’ve sworn it was delivered with a brick. When I lost Ethan . . . I lost Sadie.
Sadie lost me.
I’m sure she was mad about the math test, but that wasn’t what she was truly upset about the other day. She was upset I pushed her away in the first place. I abandoned her when Ethan died. She deserved better than that.
“Mom, can you drive me somewhere?”
CHAPTERTHIRTY
I leaveMom in the car and walk into the high school. The hallways are empty, except for the occasional stray student heading to the bathroom. Rounding the corner, I march up the staircase. My heart is pumping blood at a rapid speed, but I keep my head held high for once, hoping the fake confidence will be enough to keep me from backing out of what I have to do.
Mrs. Williams’ door is open, as per usual, revealing her sitting behind her desk. Her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose while she glances over paperwork.
I knock on the doorframe.
