Page 118 of The Problem with Falling
Willow
Ispent a month driving around the Midwest, searching for a feeling. Searching for answers. Searching for me. I didn’t know myself as deeply as I thought, mainly because I’d spent the past few years running away from self-reflection. But as I tried to figure out my own thoughts, my mind always wandered back to two people: Theo and Anna.
When I found myself back in Honey Creek, I knew it was time to face my biggest fear. I needed to talk to her—speak to Anna after all these years. Otherwise, I’d never be able to truly move on.
I stood outside of the Lanes’ home, fiddling with my fingers. They weren’t in the same home I used to visit Anna at when we were kids. They had a much bigger property, with acres of land and horses. Anna always wanted horses. We used to talk about getting a few of our own when we were old enough.
It took me a solid ten minutes to build up enough courage to ring the front doorbell. When I did, my breath caught in my throat. I waited for the door to be answered, and when it was, Mrs. Lane appeared. Her eyes widened with shock as she stared at me.
“What in the world are you doing here?” she spat out. “How dare you come here?”
“Mom? Who is it?” Anna called out. Just hearing her voice sent chills down my spine. It had been such a long time since I’d heard her voice.
Anna came to the door, and she looked just as shocked as her mother had when Mrs. Lane opened the front door.
“Willow,” Anna breathed out. Her look wasn’t packed with anger like Mrs. Lane’s had been. It was more so confusion and surprise. “What are you doing here?”
She looked beautiful. Her dark black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a pink bow in her hair, too. She had makeup on that highlighted her high cheekbones. I always loved her cheekbones. Her face wasn’t as grim as when I’d last seen her. There was a light in her eyes that was missing the night we ran into each other a month or so ago.
I tugged on the sleeves of my coat as the winter breeze danced across my cheeks. “Hi, Anna. I was wondering if maybe we could talk.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Mrs. Lane raged. “How dare you come here with such a request? You need to—”
“Okay.” Anna cut in, moving closer.
Her mom’s eyes fell on her daughter. “What?”
“I want to talk to Willow, Mom,” Anna said confidently.
Mrs. Lane grimaced. “But, Anna—”
“Mom,” Anna stated sternly. “Please give Willow and me some time alone.”
Mrs. Lane’s shoulders dropped as she stared at her daughter. She then turned her eyes toward me, and they were cold as ice. It was clear she had more to say, but instead, she muttered slightly, glanced at her daughter for a second, then marched away.
Anna moved her wheelchair closer to the front door. She smiled at me, and that was almost enough to make me burst into tears. “Come in, Willow. We can talk in my room.”
I nodded in agreement, and Anna led me to her bedroom. After I walked in, she closed the door behind her. I glanced around the room, staring at photographs that looked so remarkable. They were photos of landscapes and beautiful sunsets over Lake Michigan.
On her bookshelf was a spread of romance novels. Dozens and dozens of romance novels. She still loved love.
That fact alone made my heart skip.
On her dresser drawer was a collection of professional cameras. Some looked antique.
I fiddled with my hands, still tugging on the sleeve of my coat. As I turned to look at Anna, she was already staring at me.
“You can have a seat,” she said, gesturing toward the bed.
I sat.
She moved in closer.
We stared at one another for a while before I built up enough courage to talk. Right as I parted my mouth to speak, Anna had, too. We tripped over our words, nervously laughed, and I cleared my throat. “You first.”
“Sorry, Willow. It’s just… I’m confused as to why you’re here,” Anna said, resting her hands in her lap.
“I wanted to check in on you. To see how you’ve been.”
