Page 20 of Choose You

Rosie reaches for my hand and squeezes, but I keep my eyes down. If I look at her, I’ll cry again. I don’t want Matthew to see me cry anymore. He doesn’t deserve my tears.

“I made up the guest room for you down the hall,” Rosie says. “I figured you’d be more comfortable there than upstairs, close to everyone else. The guest bathroom attached is a little outdated, but it’s clean and private.”

I nod and slip my hand out of hers. Without looking back, I head down the narrow hall behind the kitchen to the guest room.

My body is shakingwhen I sit down on the bed. I’m both mentally and physically exhausted.

I didn’t sleep much last night. I couldn’t get my mind to shut off long enough to let sleep take me. I had too many warring thoughts about this visit—anxiety over coming home after so many years away, the potential of seeing Matthew again, seeing my brother, planning a funeral for a man I loved dearly, yet ignored for the last year. My thoughts weigh me down like a sack of sand is resting on my shoulders.

I physically ache all over.

Seeing Matthew was inevitable. I knew that before I left Seattle, but nothing prepared me for how seeing him makes me feel. I want to hate him so much. If I hated him, it would make not being together so much easier.

But no matter how much he hurt me, I will always love Matthew. He’s a part of my soul, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.

A light rap on the door draws my eyes up. I wipe away the tears running down my face. I’m not surprised I’m crying again, but I was so lost in my thoughts, the tears didn’t even register.

“Can I come in?” Rosie asks.

I shrug and give her a slight nod.

She sits down next to me, and wraps her arm around my shoulder. My body craves motherly affection, and I sink into her. My head falls to her shoulder, and her other arm comes around me. I grasp hold of it with my hand.

I crumble. Again. Full on body shaking sobs.

Only this time I’m not alone with my tears. The harder I cry, the tighter her arms wrap around me. It feels good. For years, I’ve longed to be held like this again. To feel this loved again. I didn’t just lose Matthew when we broke up, I lost my second family, too. I didn’t realize until this moment, I’d been mourning two losses all theseyears. Two families were ripped away from me five years ago. One by a tragic car accident, and the other by a marriage.

By running away, and never coming back to this place, I’ve never dealt with either loss.

“I’m so sorry, Jessica. Had I known, I would’ve told you myself. I hope you know that.”

I nod because I can’t seem to form words right now.

Rosie squeezes my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. “You know you’ll always be family, dear. No matter how things end up with Matt, you’ll always be like a daughter to me.”

Her voice cracks on those last words. All these years I never thought about how my leaving affected the rest of Matthew’s family. I only considered my heart and how broken I felt. I look up at Rosie and see her pain so clearly. Me leaving hurt her just as much as it hurt me.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie.”

“None of that.” She dries her eyes and takes a deep breath. “We all understood why you never came back. We didn’t like it, but we understood.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

She pats my hand before releasing me and standing. “Matt got called over to the clinic to care for an injured horse. You’re free to get settled without worrying about running into him. I’ll be here through dinner. Just let me know if you need anything.”

I nod. She gives me another gentle smile before she leaves. I really should get my bags out of my car, but I’m too exhausted. Instead, I kick off my shoes and curl up on the bed. I grab the throw blanket folded at the foot of the bed and pull it up to my chin. Maybe after a little sleep, I’ll be able to think more clearly.

CHAPTER 8

MATTHEW

“Come on, kiddo. Why don’t you sit up here and watch?” I lift Emmie up and sit her on the counter next to the stove. She giggles and reaches for the bottle dispenser I use to hold the thinner pancake batter.

About a year ago, I learned how to make faces and designs in pancakes by using a squirt bottle. Emmie loves it and asks for pancakes almost every day. I typically only agree to it on the weekends, but after the day we had yesterday, I couldn’t refuse her.

“Can I squirt it in?” She looks at me with wide eyes, clutching the bottle with both hands.

“Sure. What do you want to make?”

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