Page 62 of Growing Into Love

I flush so hard I think the temperature under the sheets goes up a few degrees.

“It’s only training,” I say.

“No,” Jaz says softly. “It’s more than that. It’s love.”

My heart flutters wildly and tears prick my eyes. I feel a sense of safety here, in the dark with him. Something loosens in my chest.

“I wish I could have known what she was like,” I confess.

There’s a long pause.

“It sounds to me like she was exactly like you.”

“You mean she looked like me.” I get that all the time from Gran.

“No. Her personality. May has told me stories about her.”

“Really?” I didn’t know he talked to Gran about Mum.

“No one else likes talking about Sarah in your house.”

My heart contracts painfully. Didn’t think he’d noticed that. I thought everyone had silently agreed to leave Mum buried.

“I guess we don’t,” I say quietly. I pause, my heart thrumming. “What did Gran say?”

“That Sarah was really clever. And caring. And she always spoke her mind. After you left dinner that night, when you told Dec off to his face, May said it was like seeing Sarah come to life again.”

Jaz has said Mum’s name aloud more times than I’ve heard it spoken in years.

The lump in my throat is so big, it’s hard to breathe. “Gran said that?”

“I know it’s a cheesy line to say she lives in you. But I really think she does, Cass. And I know your gran would love to share more of her with you. I think everyone’s a bit frightened of the past. Especially Declan and Virgil.”

“At least they have memories of her,” I say sadly.

“That’s true.”

Silence falls. My brain whirs. I didn’t know Gran said that about me. I always thought it was a bad thing, looking like Mum. Being the reminder of so much pain. I never thought Mum and I had other things in common. I take out my maybe-memory, old and faded.

“Jaz?” I whisper, half hoping he’s fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“Can I tell you a secret? Something you’ve got to promise not to ever tell Declan? Or anyone else?”

“Of course.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart.”

I take a breath. “I do remember her,” I whisper. “Or…I dunno, maybe it’s not a real memory. But it feels real. And I know I was only six months old when she died but…”

I’m afraid if I keep talking, I’ll sound stupid.

“Go on,” he says quietly.

“I remember her hair,” I say. My eyes itch and my chest constricts. “It was like sunlight. Like pure gold. I remember holding it in my fist. And I remember her smiling down at me. The rest of her face is blurry, but I remember her smile.”

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