I felt his hold ease, and as I looked up, surprised he was pushing me away, I saw the reason why. Mom stood, tears in the hazel eyes I’d inherited from her, holding her arms up to take me into them.

And I went.

Collapsing into her and crying now for so much more than what I’d lost in England.

•   •   •

Sitting in my parents’ air-conditioned living room on a hot day in Indiana, holding a glass of iced tea, I told myself at least there was AC in the States.

Phil had grabbed my luggage and brought it into the house as Mom and I took our reunion inside. My stepfather had left soon after with some excuse about buying groceries, but I knew he was getting out of the way so Mom and I could talk.

We’d filled the time so far with wiping our eyes and making small talk while Mom brought a jug of iced tea into the living room with a plate of homemade cookies.

“I’ve really gotten into baking since I’ve come home,” she said, offering me a cookie.

Not hungry, I promised I’d try one later.

Homemade baking just made me think of Caro.

To distract me, I blurted, “I’m angry at you.”

Mom flinched, tensed, but gave me a tight nod. “I know.”

“I’ve tried not to be. But I’m angry that your addiction was stronger than your love for me.”

“Oh, Evie, that’s not true.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears.

“I know that rationally. I know that’s not how addiction works. But it felt like that. I can’t change what it felt like. Especially when you lied all the time about it and stole from me. And how do I know that this time it’ll stick?”

“You don’t. I don’t.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I can’t worry about that because it’s counterproductive to fighting addiction. I know that now. I can only try and I am trying.” She shifted forward on her seat, expression filled with remorse. “If you can’t forgive me, I understand.”

I shook my head, my gut roiling at the idea of losing my mom for good now that she was in front of me. “I love you. You’re not your addiction, Mom. I love you. And despite everything I will always forgive you.”

When she broke into hard, shuddering sobs, I wondered how much more I could take. Holding her as she clung to me, I couldn’t remember a time more emotionally wrought than this past week.

I felt like I’d cried a lifetime’s worth of tears.

•   •   •

A while later, we moved to the porch swing. It was a typically humid day, but we had the iced tea in our hands as a coolant.

“Has it rained much?” I asked. It usually rained a fair bit in Carmel during the summers. Hence the humidity.