Page 122 of Winning Brynn

“No. That’s not what I mean,” she interrupts, releasing a quivering sigh. “I’m scared that I was right the first time.”

I blink, confusion holding my words captive, because surely she isn’t saying what I think she is.

I’m trapped between wanting to comfort her the way a friend would and condemning her for the things she’s done that I still struggle so much to understand. No matter how hard I try to see things from her perspective, a part of me will always wonder how she could walk away from Salem so easily.

And now she’s considering doing the same thing again?

My palms sweat as I process her words, trying to find the right thing to say and coming up short. I want so desperately to offer her comfort and guidance without judgment, but I’m awfully unqualified to do so.

I didn’t take one psych class in college—namely because I never went to college in the first place. Maybe if I had, I’d be more equipped to deal with this conversation or at least have a starting point from which to build on.

As it is now, I simply don’t know what the fuck to say.

“You know what? Never mind.” She wipes her tears abruptly and fakes a smile. “It doesn’t matter.”

Guilt churns like nausea in my stomach. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just… This is… I—” I breathe deeply through my nose to settle myself. “I just can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your position, and I’m trying not to let my own feelings get in the way of anything. It isn’t my place to influence you in either direction, whether you stay or go. That’s not my choice to make.”

“But you can tell me what to do, can’t you? The right thing to do? You can tell me that, at least?”

I can’t.

Simply because I don’t know the answer myself.

Isabella has fucked up. She doesn’t need me to tell her that. She fucked up by not trying harder to contact Leo while she was pregnant. She fucked up again by showing up here when no one was prepared for it. To do all that and then change her mind? Yeah, she’s fucked up there too.

But despite all that, she isn’t a bad person.

I truly believe that she’s only ever wanted to do the right thing by her daughter. She simply doesn’t know what the right thing is.

“Things really aren’t getting better?” I ask softly.

She shakes her head, so bitterly sad. “No.”

I nod slowly while I think. Chewing on my bottom lip, I absentmindedly run my fingers through the curls on Salem’s head. The little girl looks up at me, bright-blue eyes sparkling as her lips spread into a joyous smile.

She has no idea what’s going on. She has no idea that the conversation taking place right now will affect the outcome of the rest of her life. She’s just content to sit on the floor between my feet, hitting the multicolored keys of her tuneless plastic piano while I stroke my fingers through her hair.

I can’t help but think that if Issy is ultimately going to leave, wouldn’t now be the best time to do so? While Salem is still oblivious instead of further down the line when she’s aware of who Isabella is to her, when she’s built up that love for her mom? Wouldn’t it be better now, when it won’t break her heart into unmendable pieces?

I know what it’s like to have a parent ripped away from you, and I don’t want that for Salem.

“I’m trying really hard, Brynn,” Isabella says, her voice quiet and cracked.

“I know you are.”

“So, what do I do?” she whispers.

“I don’t know, Is. Only you can make that decision. All I can say is that the right thing doesn’t always look like the right thing. It’s only the right thing if it’s right foryou.”

We fall into silence. It’s stilted, uncomfortable, and smoky with the weight of Issy’s admission, but neither of us can find it in ourselves to break it.

Salem, thankfully, is none the wiser. Tugging at the leg of my pants, she hoists herself up to standing and pats her hands against my knees.

“Hungee.”

My lips twitch, despite the heaviness I feel in my heart. “You’re hungry, ladybug?”

She nods, eyes alight with expectation. Pulling her into my arms, I stand to take her through to the kitchen when my cell rings.

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