Page 43 of Huck Frasier
“My name’s Marley,” I tried again. “You’re… you’re my mom.”
Something shifted behind her eyes. A flicker. A twitch.
I knelt beside her chair.
“I just needed to see you. To know you were alive.”
Still nothing. Just that hollow quiet.
“She’s not going to remember,” the nurse had told me gently. “Not the way you hope.”
But I hadn’t come for memory.
I came for closure.
I reached out and placed my hand over hers.
And for one fleeting moment, her fingers curled around mine.
Tears filled my eyes. Not because I thought she knew me. But because maybe, deep down, some part of her stillwantedto.
“I forgive you,” I whispered.
The weight didn’t lift. Not all at once. But itshifted.
Frasier was there when I stood. His hand found the small of my back. I leaned into him as we walked out, the door clicking shut behind us.
We didn’t speak until we were in the truck, pulling away from the facility, mountains rising in the distance.
“You okay?” he asked.
I looked at him. Really looked.
And for the first time, I didn’t feel like a daughter without a mother.
I felt like a woman building a life of her own.
“I will be,” I said. “Now I can start over. With you.”
30
Marle
Ifound Fraiser exactly where I knew he’d be: standing at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables like the big, brawny man had just discovered domestic life. He smelled like pine needles, fresh air, and that danger I pretended not to crave.
I folded my arms under my chest, doing my best to look taller and more intimidating than I felt — which was impossible, considering I was barefoot and seven months pregnant.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He didn’t look up. “Want some carrots?”
I ignored the offer. “You can’t go.”
The knife paused mid-slice. He lifted his head slowly, blue eyes locking on mine with that maddening calmness he used when I was about to become unreasonable.
“Go where?”
“On your next mission. Wherever it is, I don’t care if the president himself needs rescuing. You. Are. Not. Going.”
He set the knife down, wiped his hands on a dish towel, and leaned against the counter — all muscle, calm authority, and that little grin that made me forget what I was yelling about. But not today. Not when I’d been plotting this speech all morning.
