Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- 2 Months Later
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Kasie West
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
I sat back on the couch, my anger fading as well. “I really didn’t mean to break the truck. I was just going to drive it. Face my fear of him, of you always choosing him. And then I was going to put it back. But it all went wrong.”
She sat down in the chair by the couch as though she couldn’t stand anymore. “What do you mean me always choosing him?”
I had finally controlled my emotions. “Mom, you know what I mean. You have to.”
“But it’s not him I’m choosing. This is what I do. This is my job now. People count on me. I go to all your swim meets. I went to all your grade school sporting events.” She stopped, her gaze going back to the award still in her hands. She took a deep breath. “I chose him over you.” A single tear fell down her cheek and she swiped it away. Then she put the award on the end table next to her and looked at me for several long minutes. But she wasn’t looking at me; she was looking through me, lost in her thoughts. “My grief has become a living thing.”
“I know,” I said. Because I really did know. I knew what this was. I knew she hadn’t gotten over my brother’s death.
“I’ve fed that grief year after year. I let it grow. I have let it take over my life.” She put her face in her hands. “I have let it take over our lives. Hadley, my sweet girl, I’m sorry.”
I opened, then closed my mouth again. Of all the reactions I was expecting, it wasn’t this. I didn’t expect her to recognize it so quickly.
She wiped at her tears again and met my eyes. “When I came home and saw the platform bent, saw the truck in the drive, I thought . . . I thought someone had tried to steal it. I thought someone had come into our house. Had hurt you. I was so scared.”
Maybe the disaster outside with the truck had helped her come to these realizations more quickly than she might have otherwise. “You weren’t worried about the truck?”
“I was worried about you. I love you. You know that, right?”
I nodded. I did know that. Things just needed to be different.
“I never saw anyone after I lost him. A professional, I mean. Someone to help me through my grief. We had you and you brought so much joy into our lives and I pushed that grief of losing him deep down. I thought I’d moved forward. I hadn’t.”
I stood. “Can I show you something?”