He thought it was a little freaky, but he couldn’t deny it. He loved to see his girl cry, though only when it was tears like that.

She was pretty all the time.

Even a pretty crier.

But at its core, it was the emotion behind it that he loved.

“You’re pretty when you cry,” he said quietly.

“Dad hated it when I cried.”

“Of course he did, he loves you. No parent wants to see their kid cry. I don’t mind because you’re crying because I love you. And, bears repeating, it’s pretty.”

“I didn’t get it,” she said.

Okay, not only didn’t he understand that, it wasn’t what he expected after he told her he loved her.

Her jumping him, yes.

Her getting tears in her eyes, yes.

Her telling him she felt the same, he fucking hoped so.

That, no.

“Didn’t get what?”

“I knew I was happy, and I’d never really felt that before you.”

There it was, and now the warmth he was getting from her he felt burn in his gut.

She kept going.

“I was happy because I had you, and Dad was turning around, and I love my job. But I was really relieved to get back into the studio. And I was surprised how relieved I was. I thought my art was just an outlet. Something I was messing around with. I’d always been creative. I didn’t realize, until recently, that I just did what I did. But one of the things I didn’t do was allow myself to dream. I was just going through the motions of life. I never let anyone know I did that. My work in the studio. I never gave it any importance. Not because I feared no one would think it was good. Because I was so stuck in a life that was going nowhere, I didn’t think there was anywhere to go. I just never thought to dream.”

Axl said nothing.

Hattie did.