“I don’t need you to fight for me. I’ve done a good job of breaking him all on my own.” I choke on the last bit and whirl toward the front door, hoping to make it to the bedroom before the inevitable flood of tears returns.

But my way is blocked.

“Mom?”

She stands there, tall and steady, blonde hair braided away from her face, a sad smile on her lips.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

The next thing I know, I’ve got my arms wrapped around her waist, and she’s hugging hard.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back here.”

“For you, I’d walk naked through hell.” Her hold loosens, but only so her hands can pat over me, as if checking that each one of my limbs is still intact.

Despite being cracked in certain places, I’m still physically whole.

She heaves a sigh and steps back, dropping her arms to clutch my hands. “Let’s go inside and talk. You boys stay out here. I need time alone with your sister.”

They listen to Mom’s command without question. Twenty-seven years, and I still haven’t figured out a way to get them to follow my orders like that.

In their minds, I’m still a helpless preteen.

Inside the cabin, Mom puts on a pot of water to boil while I pack up the crafting supplies that litter half the table.

As she carries our mugs over, I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.

“You came back.”

She smiles wide, but her eyes tense, as if she’s in pain. “Is that really so shocking?”

Even as she sets the tea down in front of me, I ignore it.

“It’s been almost a year since Minnie died. Plus all the time since you left. Did you ever visit?”

My mother, normally the bright star glittering at the center of whatever room she’s in, seems dim. She stares off to the side, eyes focused on nothing.

“No,” she murmurs.

“Well then”—I wrap my hands around the mug—“what changed your mind?”

Now, she looks at me. “I came for you.”

“Why? I mean, I know I got hurt, but it’s not like I’m bedridden.”

Mom studies me for a moment, and I shift in my seat. As if I have something to hide.

But I don’t.

I don’t.

“Abram called.”

“To tell you about the accident.” I already knew this.

“No. He called again, to talk about something else.”

My teeth clench, grinding down hard, as I imagine what he must’ve gone running to our mom about.

“No, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at him. He called because …” She hesitates, gaze flicking around the room.

This version of my mother is strange. She’s the most confident person I know. She never holds back. She lives life like it gave her lemons and she discovered that was her favorite fruit.