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“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She curls her fingers under my chin, lifting my face. “Remember that time Izzy decided she wanted to be a cellist instead?”
I nod. “That didn’t last very long.”
Mom chuckles. “Exactly. Sometimes things seem like a good idea at first, but it doesn’t mean it will work out. She realized cello and her weren’t meant to be.”
Sucking in my cheeks, I look down and nod. “But…but what if Mason is piano?”
Mom sucks in a deep breath. “Could be. But also, she’s eleven. Just like you, just like Mason and Waylon. Who you kids are now is not who you’ll be in five years, much less a year from now. People grow and change, and that’s the beauty of it all.”
Sniffing, I say quietly, “So…so I won’t always be like this.”
Mom goes very still. “What do you mean?”
I shrug, and wrap my arms around my middle, making myself as small as possible.
She ducks her head, searching my face with a frown. “Bubs, there’s nothing wrong with who you are now.”
Staring at the floor, I say nothing.
Hugging me to her chest, her arms come around my body, squeezing me. Cheek pressed to my hair, she says, “I know things have been hard for you. I know life dealt you a crappy hand. I can’t promise you it will get easier, but I can promise you there’s nothing wrong with you. And that you’re loved, no matter what happens. As you are now, and as whoever you become.”
I sniff, and feel myself relax when I catch a whiff of her perfume. Lavender.
“And Mason…he’s still your friend, no matter what happens between him and your sister. Your bond with him is yours and yours alone. She can’t touch that, or take that. Nor would she ever try. You know that. She’s just…she’s growing up, wanting to try new things…” She sighs and kisses my head. “But at the end of the day, you’re her brother. She’ll always put you first.”
“If I asked her to break up with him, do you think she would?”
Mom’s quiet for a long moment. Her hand strokes my shoulder. “I do.”
I pull my head out from under hers, and her arms loosen. I meet her soft brown gaze. “That wouldn’t be very nice of me, though, would it?”
She smiles thinly, sadly. “I can’t tell you what to do here.” Her eyes search between mine. “But if it really bothers you, I do think you should talk to her about. Explain where you’re coming from, and why this upsets you.” She pauses meaningfully. “Bottling it all up isn’t healthy. It’s okay to put yourself first too sometimes, even if that just means owning how you feel. Ultimately, it would still be her decision what she does with it.”
I blink and look down. “She really likes him.”
“Yeah, sweet boy, she does.”
Of course Mom knows. She knows everything.
“And he…he likes her too. He has to, right?” I say, meeting her gaze once more.
Mom smiles that sad smile again.
“She’s a girl,” I tell her, because that feels important. “And she’s pretty and-and she’s good at piano, and she’s nice and-and they’re in the same classes, the same grade…”
Mom’s eyes gleam with some emotion I can’t name.
“Why wouldn’t he like her like that?”
“Do you know how many boys I dated before I started dating your father?”
I make an ick face, and she laughs.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” She pauses, growing serious once more before saying, “There were five. And my first boyfriend? We were thirteen. Just a couple years older than you. You wanna know how long it lasted?”
I nod.
“Three months.”
