Page 80 of The Problem with Falling
He pulled me closer to his side and kissed my shoulder. It was so gentle and intimate that I almost forgot we weren’t more than friends.
“I wouldn’t hate the idea,” he said. “What about you?”
“I go back and forth. I didn’t have a mom growing up, so I wonder what it would be like to be one.”
“My mom walked out on me when I was around twelve,” he confessed.
“Wow. I’m sorry. That had to be hard.”
“It was until it wasn’t. Sometimes the best thing a toxic person could do for you was leave you alone.”
“Do you still miss her sometimes?”
“No,” he said shortly, “I just miss the idea of her.”
“I miss the same thing—the idea of my mom. I sometimes wonder…” I started, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning round. “What kind of mother my mom would’ve been to me if she ever had the chance to raise me.”
“Like you,” he said with another kiss on my shoulder. “She would’ve been just like you.”
I lifted my head. “What do you mean by that?”
“She would’ve loved loudly, soothed softly, and been so perfect that even the bad seeds would start to believe in good apples.”
“Theo—”
“Great.” He cut in. “She would’ve been great to you, Willow. And you would be great to a child of your own, too.”
“Careful,” I whispered. “Or else you might start making my heart beat in a way it shouldn’t for you.” A small smile stayed on his face. I bit my bottom lip. “Theo?”
“Yes, Willow?”
“Are we playing with fire?”
Before he could reply, Theo’s phone rang, interrupting us. He glanced over at it, and when he saw the name on the screen, he sat up. He moved to the edge of the bed and answered the call.
“Hey. It’s late. Everything okay?” he asked the person on the other line. The serious stare on his face made me sit up in bed, too. I placed a hand on his shoulder. His body was stiff as a rock. “Okay. Yeah. I hear you. It’s okay.Breathe.Everything’s all right. I’m on my way.”
He hung up the phone, and I felt his entire body sigh against my touch.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Um.” He sighed again and went quiet. He sniffled and spoke once more. “PaPa had a seizure. Grandma a-a-and him are at thehospital. I have to text people to let them know. I need t-t-to dr-dr-drive to the hospital,” he said, standing from the side of the bed. He began pacing as if looking for things, but his mind was swirling too fast for him to settle. I stood and grabbed clothes for him. Followed by socks and his sneakers.
“Here,” I said, placing them in his hands.
“Th-thanks,” he murmured, changing into the clothes. I changed into an outfit, too. He then darted around the house, looking for his keys. I found them on the kitchen island.
“Here,” I said, giving him the keys.
“Th-thanks,” he murmured again, striking his hand through his messy hair.
I put my shoes on as he put his shoes on.
He looked disoriented.
“Here,” I said, holding my hand out toward him. “I’ll take the keys. I’ll drive.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I can—”
