Page 133 of Every Chance After

It’s impossible to gauge her reaction—she’s stoic like her shields went up at the wordmother.

“It’s okay.” I grab my keys and offer a weak smile. “Let’s go. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

I don’t know if she hears me because she’s already pulling on her sweater and reaching for her bag. I follow her outside. In The Beast, she says nothing, even when I prompt her, only stares out the window and fidgets with her fingers.

The Beast squeaks to a stop behind an old, red Honda Pilot, packed to the brim with stuff, even on the luggage rack. Wren leans against the front door, closed behind her, like a sentry at a castle. A woman in her late forties with flaming red hair stands on the porch steps, unquestionably Marina’s mother.

She brightens when we pull in, a smile that is all too familiar, and she quick-steps to greet us. Marina’s breath hitches beside me, and she’s out of the truck before I put it in park.

They embrace, and it lingers.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Marina is the most understanding and forgiving person I’ve ever met. When she told me about her mom, it was clear how much she missed her.

Her mom seems to have missed her, too. She runs her bright fingernails down her daughter’s arms, beaming over how beautiful she is. Marina fiddles with her mom’s hair, lined with gold streaks to make it look like flames.

“Mom, this is Grady Tripp,” Marina says, pulling her toward me. “My boyfriend.”

“Hey, I’m Leonie.” She shakes my hand. “Good to meet you. Oh, I remember the Tripps from the salon.”

“Nice to meet you, Leonie.”

She perks up. “Hey, if you two get married, you’ll be the Strange-Tripps.”

Marina and I glance at each other, mouths open at the obvious thing neither of us thought about, while Leonie cackles delightedly.

“Um, that’s… we’re only dating, Mom,” Marina says awkwardly, and I try not to take offense at the wordonly.

“Are you here long?” I ask, hoping light conversation will bring us some answers.

“Um, well?—”

Thumps running down the porch stairs draw our attention. A little girl with bright red hair and freckles scurries up and takes Leonie’s side unsurely. I imagine Marina must’ve looked just like her at that age.

“She has cats, Mom,” the girl says, “and games and lots of plants.”

“Wren let her in to use the bathroom,” Leonie explains. “It was a long drive.”

Marina gasps beside me. “Who is this?”

Leonie wags her finger at Marina. “You didn’t read my letters, huh? That’s okay.” Her hands go up submissively. “I don’t blame you. I was in a bad way back then, and, anyway, water under the bridge, I hope. This is your sister, Matilda. Everyone calls her Tilly.”

The little girl sticks her hand toward Marina. “Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to know you.”

Marina drops to her knees, bare against the gravel. She shakes the girl’s hand, ogling her with wide eyes. It’s hard to tell if she wants to laugh or scream.

Tilly laughs at her sister’s attention. “Mom, I think the cats got her tongue.”

Leonie chuckles. “No, honey. She’s just surprised, that’s all.”

No fucking shit, surprised.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tilly,” Marina finally says, her usual smile barely there. “Hope you like cats, plants, and games.”

“Oh, yes. Never had a cat before, but I think I like them.”

Leonie gives Tilly a nudge. “Tell them about yourself.”

“I’m seven, but I read middle-school books. I’m in second grade,” she peers up at her mom, “Mom says I might go to school here.”

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