Underneath the Sycamore Tree(50)

I tense.

Mama lips part slightly.

He reaches out and sips his water. “Just seems strange that you’d let a man who left his family let his daughter move in with him without a fight.”

I kick him under the table, but he doesn’t even flinch.

He sets his glass down. “I acknowledge that it’s none of my business, but your daughter does live with me now. Since you don’t seem to care, somebody has to.”

“Kaiden,” I warn.

He won’t look anywhere but Mama.

She blinks rapidly, and when her head moves I see the slight shine to her teary eyes. I close mine, not wanting to see the color change.

“You’re right,” she says softly.

My eyes snap open.

She’s looking at him, not me. “I can’t sit here and pretend like I’ve been a good mother to Emery.”

Surprise colors my face.

Her eyes shift to mine. “Sunshine, I need to get better. I need…you to get better.” I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t say more on the topic. She gives me the smallest, saddest smile. “I signed up for a support group a while ago. One of my coworkers left a brochure on my desk and I couldn’t throw it out. I know I should have gone a long time ago, but…”

But what?

But you were scared?

But you were in denial?

But you thought you were fine?

“It’s been helping. They suggested I put Logan’s pictures in an album and change up your old bedroom for something new. I…I visit her grave a few times a week. They made me accept that I’ve treated everything since her death so poorly, and I can’t apologize enough to you for that. I don’t know how to fix it, which is why I thought you seeing your father would be best. You and him…he deserves to have you back in his life, Sunshine.

“Having you here means the world to me, and I haven’t shown it,” she continues, reaching out to me. “Maybe once I get more of the help I should have accepted years ago, we can try this again. I need—” She closes her eyes and squeezes my hand, and I accept the pain—both hers and my own. “I just need more time. You’ve given me years and so much love, so I hate to ask for more. But it’s what I need.”

Time.

Time is my greatest enemy.

Doesn’t she understand that?

But then I look at her. Really look.

I see the features I notice on my face when I chance a look in the mirror. I see heartache and pain and unspoken emotion in the bags beneath her eyes. Her cheeks aren’t damp and people aren’t staring and there’s nothing out of the ordinary about us.

We’re a family having dinner.

We’re a family with problems. We’re riddled with imperfections and flaws and struggles like anyone else in the room.

We’re just buried in years worth of pent up frustration and anger and guilt over it.

She wants time.

I’ll give her time.

One more hand squeeze and we’re both settled back in our chairs.

We eat dinner in peace—in necessary silence.

Kaiden looks at me.

I don’t look back.



When we get back to the house, Kaiden pulls me away from Mama and Grandma. He grabs the blanket from the back of his car and tugs me toward Lo’s grave. I don’t protest and ask why he’s doing this. I just let his hand envelope mine until he let’s go to get the blanket situated on the ground.

It is way too cold to stay out here for long, but I somehow welcome the uncomfortable chill. We get too used to finding comfort in things we shouldn’t—accepting what is instead of questioning it. So, I hug my knees to my chest and stare at Lo’s grave.

It’s already getting dark, which means the temperature will only get colder. Since Kaiden likes to scold me for being outside, I’m sure the sycamore and grave outings won’t last once winter officially greats us. The snow will ruin our chances to escape our family, and I wonder if he’s as sad as me about it.

I don’t ask.

I sit.

I stare.

I sulk.

Closing my eyes, I rest my cheek on my knee. The warmth from my leggings soaks into my cold skin, and I wrap my arms a little tighter around my shins.

“What did she mean?” he asks, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

I open my eyes to see him watching me.

“She said you needed to get better.”

I press my lips together.

“Emery,” he all but growls.

I sigh, knowing it was only a matter of time before this happened. The sick girl can’t live dormant forever, not even in the eyes of someone who doesn’t want to see a problem.

He treats me like anyone else.

He messes with me.

He’s rude.

He’s cruel.

Oddly, I don’t want that to end.

“Does it matter?” is my reply.

His eyes narrow.

I scoot closer to him. For warmth, for comfort, for anything but the truth he seeks. “I get angry with you a lot for the stuff you do. It’s like you don’t care about hurting anybody’s feelings—Cam, Rachel, me.”

My head rests against his shoulder, which tenses for a moment before relaxing. His arm lifts and wraps around my waist, tugging me closer into him. I sigh when I feel his body heat wrap around me.