Page 62 of Mended Hearts

“We’ve got your back, sweet pea.”

“Sometimes, I wish you were my mom instead of Carly.”

If my heart could’ve grown wings, it would’ve launched itself off a cliff right then. As it was, it lodged squarely in my throat.

Oh, sweet baby.

“We make pretty good friends though, right?”

“Right.” She nodded and grabbed a handful of popcorn, stuffing it in her mouth like that settled the matter.

“Sooo… I have an idea for tomorrow and I want to run it by you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled around her snack.

“Have you ever had a worry jar?”

“A wha’?” she asked, then rushed to swallow.

“A worry jar. You decorate it to match your room, and when you’re feeling something big—like tonight—you write it down, put it in the jar, and seal the lid.”

“What does that do?” she asked, skeptical.

“I think writing our fears out helps us process them. And then sealing them in the jar is like… giving them to God. They’re not your problem anymore.”

“I’m not certain I believe in God.”

“Well. The Universe, then.”

“I give my fear to the universe?” she asked flatly.

“Yep,” I said with a sage nod. “You can’t worry about it anymore—it’s the universe’s problem now.”

“Hmm…”

“Wanna try it? It might help, you never know.”

She paused the movie and raised a skeptical brow. “Youwant me to try it?”

Grinning at her emphasis, I nodded. When she harrumphed, I had to bite my cheek.

“Fine.”

“You’re appeasing me,” I accused.

“Yes,” she agreed, then looked at me like I was a circus act when I burst out laughing.

“It just doesn’t seem scientifically?—”

I ruffled her hair and gave her a light shove, laughing harder when she broke into giggles. “Oh, cut it out and hit play so we can get to the door scene.”

Still giggling, she breathed, “Legendary.”

“Agreed.”

“But that’s in the next movie.”

“Damn.”

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