Page 101 of 4th Degree

“Yes, I do,” I whisper. “I love you— I need to be here to take care of you. Nothing is more important than that.”

“Oh, honey.” Pulling me closer, she wraps her arms around me. “You’ve always been the most caring person. Even when you were a little girl, you’d always give the last piece of your snacks to anyone that looked like they wanted a bite. You’ve always thought about others more than yourself.”

I turn my face into my mother’s shoulder, not knowing how to respond but soaking up her comfort anyway.

“It’s the most lovable and admirable thing about you,” she says. “It’s what I’ve always loved about you. But…I should’ve taught you a long time ago that there’s a limit. That your happiness is always going to be more important than others. Than me.”

I startle and straighten. “How can you say that? Nothing is more important than you. Than our family. That’s all we have!”

Her smile is sad as she cups my cheek in her hand. “Family and obligation can’t be your whole life, Skylar. That’s no life at all.”

My lower lip starts to tremble. Because how can she say that? If my family isn’t what I base my life and every decision around, then nothing makes sense in the world.

“I don’t know how to live any other way,” I admit on a whisper.

“I know,” she soothes, her eyes shining with tears as she strokes my hair. “But you owe it to yourself to try. You deserve to be happy. Taking time for yourself doesn’t make you a selfish daughter, or a bad sister. It makes you human.”

I look down at my lap, trying to choke back my emotions. Part of me knows she’s right. It’s the same thing Dominic, and even Joey, have been trying to tell me. I just never expected it to be this hard.

“Will you tell me what your plans for tonight are supposed to be?” she asks. “I should know what my daughter’s idea of fun is.” When I lift my eyes to meet hers, I see her make a face. “Not that I’m likely to understand it: it doesn’t matter how many fights I watch, I can’t understand the appeal of rolling around with sweaty men while they try to kill you.”

A laugh bursts out of me, and a warmth fills my chest. I had no idea my mom did any research into MMA. I never doubted that she loved me, or that she would support me if she could, I just always assumed her life revolved around her sickness, the same way that mine did. But hearing that she’s happy enough about my new hobby to do some research into it…it lifts one of the thousand weights on my shoulders.

“Well, you probably won’t understand this idea of fun, either,” I tell her, mischief infusing my words. It feels good. “I started dating my thirty-six-year-old coach.”

I think I expect surprise, or some kind of scolding—maybe a part of me is hoping for it, for some normalcy.

But if there was any remaining doubt in my mind that my mom truly wants me to be happy, it disappears when she says with delight, “Are you kidding me? That sounds exactly like my idea of fun. If I could stop falling long enough to go on a date, those would be the only parameters I would put into that Hinge app.”

By now, I’m laughing through my words. “Why do you know what Hinge is, Mom?”

She winks at me. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. But stop trying to change the subject. Is it serious? Is he good-looking? What’s his name? How dare you not share the hot tea with me.”

“Mom,” I chuckle. “First of all, it’s just tea, not hot tea. But I’ll tell you all about him, I promise. Maybe tomorrow? When I get home? I’ll pick up our favorite snacks and we can make an afternoon of it.”

“That sounds perfect,” she says with a warm smile.

And then she’s hugging me, squeezing me for long seconds. “You deserve to be happy, Skylar,” she whispers into my hair. “Go be happy.”

I squeeze her back, unable to do anything but nod my acknowledgement, my gratitude, my love for her. I had no idea how badly I needed to have this conversation with her. But in only a few minutes, I feel lighter than I have in months.

When we separate, we’re both smiling. But then she smirks and says, “So you’re staying out all night, huh? Guess I don’t need to worry about you having fun, then.”

“Mom!” I shriek.

She feigns innocence. “What? I just told you I support it.”

I’m shaking my head as I stand and help her to her feet, but I can’t tamp down on my smile. “You’re ridiculous. Come on, I’ll help you back to bed.”

We start toward her room, but then something occurs to me, and I stop in the doorway.

“Actually, you feel up for a meet-and-greet right now?”

I wake up to the sun streaming through the two-story windows of Dominic’s loft apartment. I reach beside me for his body, but at the same time my hand only hits pillow, the sounds of someone in the kitchen registers in my brain.

Arching, I stretch my arms over my head, the sheets brushing against my naked body. Dominic was gentle with me last night after the tournament, but I still feel sated and slightly sore. I also feel well-rested—I can’t remember the last time I slept in.

All that has me feeling more content than I ever have.

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