Page 144 of That First Flight

“It doesn’t matter what mistakes I made or how old I was. What matters is how much she’s loved and cared for. It matters how god damn happy she is. It matters that she’smychild and that’s something you will never be able to take away from me, no matter how hard you try.”

Her lips part in shock before she closes them tightly.

“I don’t know, dear.” she says to my dad. “Don’t you think they should be coming home? This little game she’s playing is ridiculous.”

I don’t wait for my dad to answer. “Not happening.”

Her head whips to look at me. “It is. Everything I’ve ever done for you—”

“You’ve mentioned that already,” I cut her off.

“You owe me,” she hisses through her teeth. “For raising your daughter properly.”

“I don’t owe you agoddamnthing!” My voice grows louder than I expected, and a few tables turn to look at us.

Silences stretches between us.

“What makes you think you’re so wise?” my father questions over the brim of his whiskey glass.

My head snaps to his. “I’ve always been wise. You two were just too busy noticing my faults.” I stand tall and straighten out my chef jacket that I earned with hard work. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to head back to the kitchen and cook for the rest of the guests that are waiting on their meals.”

They say nothing else.

Just as I’m about to turn, my mother speaks up, “You’ve never been fit to be a mother. I’ll make sure she comes home where she belongs.”

My steps freeze and I slowly turn back to look at them. Rage taking over every part of my body as my fists clench on the sides of my body. I can’t help it when I bring myself nose to nose with her.

“I fucking dare you to try. Not in this life or the next will you ever take her from me.”

Before she can say anything back, I turn on my heel. I ask the hostess to remove them from the restaurant before I storm into the kitchen. The moment the doors close behind me, I press my back to it and feel my chest rising and falling rapidly. Anxiety I haven’t felt in months comes back full force.

I close my eyes as I sink to the floor and try to regulate my breathing.

One… two… three..

“Macey, are you okay?” Jan runs over to me.

“My”—my breathing picks up—“parents.”

“Oh shit,” Kevin murmurs under his breath.

They know my entire story, know how I got here and why I left Montana for good. I’ve told them stories about how vindictive and narcissistic my parents are. So the second those two words leave my lips, theyknowexactly what just happened to me.

Jan cups my face in her hands. Sending a small wave of comfort through me. “Tell me what you need,” she says.

One… two… three..

I pull my phone from my apron, handing it over to her because I can’t even see straight.

“I need Oliver,” I say right before sobs rack my entire body.

“Feel like doing arts and crafts tonight?” I ask Mackenzie.

She raises a brow at me. “You said you’re not crafty.”

“Must you remember everything I say?”

She taps the side of her head. “I store it all in here.”

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