Make a Wish (Spark House #3)(97)

I’d chalked it up to being alone and needing the emotional support she provided.

I’d moved away and given Peyton a fresh start in a new home. One without the memories of Marcie to keep me tethered to the past. But in moving to Boulder, I’d realized that I’d traded one problem for another. There had been a reason we’d moved to Colorado Springs because as much as Marcie loved her mother, she also couldn’t handle how suffocating she could be. And I’d experienced it firsthand for a lot of years.

It doesn’t matter that I moved back to Colorado Springs and tried for another fresh start. If I can’t learn how to manage my feelings about what happened to Marcie, I’ll never be able to create a future with Harley, or anyone for that matter.

And I want to.

I place the photo on Peyton’s nightstand and gather her sheets, carrying them to the laundry room. I set it on the sanitize cycle and return to bed. Peyton’s head rests on Harley’s pillow, and I try my best to be quiet and not jostle her, hoping she’s fallen back to sleep, but as soon as I slip under the covers, her eyes pop open.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I know it didn’t happen on purpose. Get some rest, okay?” I lean over and kiss her forehead again. It’s still cool, so no fever to explain the bed wetting. I inhale and get a faint whiff of Harley’s shampoo, still lingering on her pillow because I haven’t washed the sheets since the last time she slept over.

I lie back and close my eyes. Marcie wouldn’t want me to live in the past. She would want me to find happiness.

“Daddy?” Peyton whispers. It could be a minute or an hour later.

I make a noise in response.

“I miss Harley.” Her voice is tiny and full of tears.

I breathe out the hurt in my chest. This is one of the reasons I’ve been so careful about bringing someone into our lives like this. I don’t want Peyton to get hurt when things don’t work out, but in doing that, I’ve robbed us both of the opportunity to find love. “I know, sweetie.”

“When is she coming over again?” she asks on a sniffle.

“I don’t know right now,” I tell her honestly.

“We’re not going to move back to Boulder, are we?” More sniffles.

“No, honey, we’re not moving again. Grampy needs me here for work, and I know how much you love being in Colorado Springs,” I assure her. “Why would you think we’d be moving back to Boulder?”

“Because Granny doesn’t like Harley, and the last time we moved, Harley was taking care of me. And Harley was taking care of me again and Granny wasn’t happy about it. Does she not want Harley to be my mom? Is that why Granny doesn’t like her?”

I choke back the emotion that comes with these kinds of questions and turn on the bedside lamp before I roll over to face Peyton. “Did Granny say something to you about that?”

Peyton’s eyes are watery and tired, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. Hoppy is tucked under her chin and every few seconds she uses one floppy ear to wipe the tears away. “It’s not what she says, it’s what she does.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever I talk about Harley, she starts talking about Mommy. And she’ll sit me down and tell me lots of stories about her and tell me that it’s important that I know all about her even though I didn’t get to meet her.”

“She’s right. It is important for you to know about Mar—your mom,” I agree.

“Why don’t you ever tell me stories about Mommy?” Peyton asks.

My heart stutters and squeezes. I blow out a breath, trying to figure out how to talk to her about this. “Because it hurts.”

“Do you miss her still?” She scooches a little closer.

“Yeah, of course I do.” But it’s been nearly a decade. And while that space in my heart reserved for Marcie never goes away or gets smaller, I find that I’m able to make more room for new people who can help heal those marred pieces.

She nods and is quiet for a second. “Harley misses her mom too. And I want to be able to miss mine, but I only know about her in stories, so all I can miss is a picture or an idea. I’m sad I didn’t get to know her, and I’m sad that I don’t have a mom, but I really miss Harley a lot. She’s not just an idea or a picture, and I thought that maybe she was going to be my mom again, like when I was little.”

“Harley wasn’t your mom when you were little.”

Her lips twist to the side. “But she did all the things a mom does. She told me all about the things we did together, just like a family would. And we’ve been like a real family for a while, and now I don’t get to see her and I don’t like it.” Real tears start to flow, and my heart feels as though it’s breaking all over again.

I don’t know how to make this better, so I hug her and tell her it’s going to be all right, even though I’m not sure if that’s a lie.



* * *



I don’t get much sleep after that, but Peyton passes out, and I call my mom first thing in the morning and ask if she can come watch her so Peyton can get some sleep and I can go to work. She shows up at eight with muffins and coffee, her expression reflecting her concern.

“You look exhausted. Is Peyton okay?” Mom kisses me on the cheek and folds my hands around one of the take-out coffees.