Addicted After All(169)

She nods. “Yeah, right then. I asked her about it, and it took some screaming for her to really tell me the truth.” She wipes below her eyes to hide her tears.

I turn my body more towards her. “I’m sorry you had to find out like that.” I warned Emily when I met her—I told her to at least come clean with her daughters. It stung to learn about my brother the way I did, and I didn’t want Willow to experience that kind of betrayal.

“I ran away,” she blurts out with a sob.

My stomach sinks. “You what?”

She cries. “I just…I was so mad. I told my mom that I was going to find you, and she couldn’t stop me. So…I hopped in my car and drove to Philadelphia.”

I pinch my eyes as I realize what this means. “You’ve been here for an entire month? Does Emily know—”

“She knows,” Willow says, sniffing. While she talks, I stand and search for a box of tissues. “She’s waiting for me to run out of money. She doesn’t have any vacation days left to leave work, so she can’t come get me.”

My chest tightens. Now that I have a kid, I can actually put myself in the place of a parent. I would be a wreck if Moffy ran away as a teenager. I’d hunt him down within the hour, but I also have the means to follow him all across the world.

I reach for tissues on top of the employee fridge, and I return to the couch. “How much money do you have left?” I ask, passing her the box.

She plucks one out. “I’m not going back.”

“Willow,” I force, “how much money?”

She bites her lip to keep from crying again. “Enough for a couple more nights at the motel.”

She’s staying at a motel? Jesus Christ. “I’ll pay for a hotel tonight and tomorrow, and I can get you a plane ticket back to Maine.”

“No, no,” she says. “Please don’t make me go back. I just met you, and…” She hiccups and removes her glasses, wiping the wet lenses with her striped blue and green shirt.

“Aren’t you in high school?” I ask.

She stays quiet, and I take it as a yes. She’s missing class by being here.

“Your mom is probably sick over this,” I tell her.

“Our mom,” she emphasizes, putting her glasses back on. She has my nose. And my hair color. The longer I scrutinize her features, the more I realize we look related. “And I don’t care what she is.”

I grimace. “Willow—”

“She lied to me.” Willow points to her chest, the hurt tearing through her voice. “I don’t want to be around her ever again.”

Her anger is talking. I understand all of that. I thought I was going to cut ties with my dad too. The moment I found out he’d kept so much from me, I couldn’t fathom ever seeing his face again. Time heals wounds that deep, and hers are too fresh.

“How about I call Emily and see where her head is at?” The minute I say the words, my muscles constrict. I never believed I would hear her voice again. Not for anything. I can’t even believe I offered this.

After a brief second, Willow nods and lists off Emily’s cell number. I type it into my phone and rise to my feet. “I’ll be quick. Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head, but I silently question how much she’s been eating just to save money. I motion to a young employee at a table.

“Can you get her a muffin from the front?”

He sets down his sandwich. “Sure thing.” And then he exits. I disappear into the employee bathroom, locking the door behind me. It’s a single stall, so it’s not like I’m taking away five toilets from the staff.

My hands shake, and I don’t end up calling Emily first. I dial another number instead.





{ 59 }

LOREN HALE



Still in the employee bathroom, Lily’s eyes widen the longer I rehash everything that’s happened. She hangs onto my belt loops and stares up at me like I’m sharing the plot to a new Marvel movie.

“No way,” she says when I finish.

“Yes way.” I rest my elbow on the sink. “Now I have to call her mom—my mom.” It’s weird to say, especially since Emily doesn’t really consider me her son.

I called Lily to the bathroom because I want to do this with her. I feel stronger when she’s around. Maybe it’s her expression, the way she stares at me, like I can do anything without falter.