Page 47 of Things Left Unsaid

“I hate it when you call me that. I’m chaos.”

My smile is solemn. “Don’t you feel like a kid today?”

Tears soak through my plaid shirt.

Guess that’s my answer.

Awkwardly, I press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” she garbles around a sob.

I close my eyes. “I know you don’t. But you are here, and your mom wouldn’t want you to join her. Not yet. She’d want you to be happy and to live a long?—”

“Why? What’s the point of anything? Everyone always leaves. They die. They all die.”

The words cut too close to the bone.

I’ve felt that way many a time in my life, but that Susanne…

She’s a cheeky little thing but her heart is pure gold.

That she might want to end it…

I squeeze her tighter, as if the harder I hug, the more I can fight those thoughts and stop them from becoming definite actions.

“Why did she have to leave me, Colt?”

“I wish I had an answer for that, Susanne.” I tip my head against the stall door. “Your mom tried to do something good and it bit her in the ass.”

“I told Calder to keep his dumb dog in the house.” She swipes at her cheeks. “Mom went in to save him. One second she was there, and the next she wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” The words aren’t enough so I press another kiss to her temple.

“What am I going to do?Grand-mèrehates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“She does! She’s so mean to me. Even Walker said she is andGrand-mèretreats him like Jesus has come back.”

A huff of laughter escapes me. “I don’t know my scripture as well as I should, but I don’t think it’s a good thing if He visits.”

She hitches a bony shoulder. “I miss Mom. Already. She only just?—”

When her words break down into sobs, a dust mote dances in the air. I track it as, woodenly, I rasp, “Of course you do.”

“How am I supposed to live without her?”

“You…” I think about Uncle Clay. “You take it one day at a time.”

“Will you come to the funeral?”

“You know I can’t.”

Susanne pulls away from me, drawing her knees to her chest and burrowing her face in them.

God, I hate it when she cries.

Over the years, I’ve grown used to her quirks and have adapted myself to her sense of humor, which is pretty dark when it comes to her diabetes. For a kid, anyway. Seeing her cry hurts something in my goddamn soul.

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