You think you know pain until you are called into a meeting where people ask you to stop visiting your mother as often because seeing you makes her “unwell.”

If I were a better person, I would stop coming here altogether. I’d let her live her life and be happy away from me. But I’m too selfish for that. What kind of daughter would I be if I all but abandoned my mother?

This one-visit-every-two-weeks arrangement is the compromise I’ve made with myself. Frequent enough that I can make sure she is well and receives good care, infrequent enough that the staff don’t have to handle her crises every day.

The cold air hits my face as I open the front door, and for the first time this winter, I’m thankful for it. My feet stay in place as I take deep breaths, trying to let all that has happened in the past fifteen minutes disappear into the wind. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.

At some point, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I grab it to find my cousin Aqidah calling. The call is declined at the speed of light. No way can I deal with her today after what just happened. Putting the phone away, I close my eyes and continue trying to calm my heart rate.

The tips of my fingers are cold by the time I start walking back to Aaron’s SUV. My car is still out of order, and I felt bad enough for having missed last week’s meeting with my mother, so I asked him if I could borrow his car to go on an errand. Of course, he said yes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man not be agreeable.

His smell surrounds me as I open the door and sit in the driver’s seat. Not just from the car, but from the coat he’s lent me that I’m still wearing. It’s not the prettiest, but it’s much warmer than mine, and it smells good. Really good. Like pine and a hint of cinnamon.

I put my hands on the steering wheel, but don’t start the car yet. I think I need another minute.

Just then, my phone vibrates in my purse. With a wince, I pick it up, but exhale when I see it’s not Aqidah again. Instead, it’s one of the paralegals working at the firm under Selina.

Yes, work. Exactly what I need.

After a sharp inhale, I swallow down all the anguish that could fill my voice and accept the call.

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Aaron

I pump my legs hard as my skates screech against the ice.

The wind is freezing cold as it bites my face, but I don’t care. I’m warm enough all over that it’s only a relief.