Page 18 of The Parent Pick-Up
A heavy weight of sadness settles on my chest. I can’t stand to watch her cry. Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for her.
My arms wrap around her, pulling her close to my chest. She fits neatly, her head snug under my chin, her soft chest pressed to mine. I stroke her back, and she exhales deeply, her body shuddering.
I grit my teeth as her tears vibrate through her body, shaking both of us. My hands slide over her hair, skimming down her back.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to start over?” she asks finally.
My breath goes shallow, and tears burn in my eyes. “Yeah, I do.”
Ivy clings to me, her arms tight around my back. “It sucks.”
“It sucks so hard.” My voice catches.
Ivy pulls back to look at me, her expression tightening when she sees the tears in my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Remembered pain stabs my chest, and I pull in a sharp breath. “It’s not your fault.”
Ivy reaches up to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear.
It’s been ages since I’ve cried. I thought I was over Emily and her betrayal, but the hurt sneaks up out of nowhere sometimes. And Hannah being away only makes me feel more alone and vulnerable.
“Maybe we can learn to trust again,” Ivy says.
The heavy weight in my chest lightens, and I draw in a steady breath. I never dared to think I’d find someone I’d want to trust. But here she is right in front of me, watching me cry.
I should probably be embarrassed about my tears. Everything in my upbringing says they are unmanly. Soft.
But I don’t feel embarrassed in front of Ivy. Instead, I feel the strange, light billowing of hope.
Time stands still as we embrace in the woods, saying nothing but somehow saying everything. Who knows how long we stand there, comforting each other like two lost souls before the sharp sound of a whistle pierces the air.
We break apart and look toward the trail, where a camp counselor is glaring at us with an angry stare.
Chapter Seven
Ivy
By the timewe get back to the elementary school parking lot, my legs feel like overcooked noodles. I’m pretty sure I have a rock in my shoe, my hair is plastered to my forehead, and the smell of my own sweat makes me a bit queasy.
Our “short scenic hike” had turned into an all-day expedition through every mosquito-infested trail in Starlight Bay.
Olivia bounces ahead of us, apparently immune to exhaustion. She runs ahead to talk to her friends, then comes rushing back a moment later, nearly tackling me with her enthusiasm.
“Mom! Mom! Can I go with Maddie and the Bonners to pick up their new puppy? They’re having a sleepover, too. Pleeease?”
I glance at Owen, who’s trying to hide a grin.
“A puppy?” I repeat, stalling for time while I mourn my plans to curl up with a pizza and my kid tonight.
“Yeah!” She gives me her best impression of a puppy dog face, big eyes and all. “Please?”
Owen laughs under his breath, but when I look at him, he tries to act like he hasn’t been listening to every word.
“You don’t have a change of clothes or your toothbrush.”
Olivia bats her eyelashes and makes a little whimpering sound that teases a reluctant smile to my mouth.
“Fine.” I reach for her hiking backpack. “But only if you promise not to come back asking me for a puppy of our own.”
