Page 79 of Mistletoe & Magic
I won’t get to fall asleep with Remy holding me and wake up to his arms around me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to do any of these things ever again. This might really just be over for us. It doesn’t feel that way, but then again, I know that life can change on a dime. People leave, die, and we don’t get a say. Maybe I’ve been right at pushing people away and keeping my heart safe. Safe felt…okay…safe felt boring. And lonely. Remy felt like a chance. He felt exciting and great.
Sometimes the punches just keep punching. And we haveto take them. And this is why I barely trust my heart with anyone. And I’m kicking myself for trusting it with Remy. Because this hurts.
I think about the photos I hung up around the house. How I didn’t put a single one of myself on the walls. Was Remy right? Was some part of me still holding back, still ready to run when it got hard? Did I subconsciously lie to him and to myself? God, I am an idiot for even trying with him.
Tears well again, but I brush them away. I don’t want to run. Not really. I want to stay.
The thought is terrifying and plain as day. I want them.
But does he want me?
A knock sounds softly on the door. Mom slips in carrying two mugs of her herbal tea that helps with sleep every time like a charm. Tea is the answer to most everything with mom. Had a bad day at school? Tea. A boy broke your heart? Tea. Always tea.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks. “I saw you didn’t eat much, so I made you a sandwich.”
I shake my head. “Just too upset to eat anything.”
She sits on the bed beside me, handing me a mug. “Ivy, I know this feels awful right now. But sometimes the worst nights are the ones that teach us who we really are and what we want.”
“What if what I want doesn’t want me?” My voice cracks on the words.
She squeezes my hand. “From where I’m standing, that man would burn down the world for you to make this right. He just hasn’t figured out how yet.”
My throat aches. “What if I can’t forgive him?”
“Then you can’t. Forgiveness isn’t something you owe anyone. But don’t make that decision tonight. Sleep first. See how the sun feels inthe morning.”
I don’t sleep much. When I do, I dream of Junie sitting in the goat pen crying for me, her little mittened hands reaching out. I wake with a start, tears streaming down my face, heart hammering, and grab a pen and paper.
I write her a note before I lose my nerve:
Bug, I love you. You were so brave yesterday. I’m proud of you. I’ll see you soon. Everything will be okay.
I don’t know if any of that is true. I don’t want to get her hopes up. But I can’t imagine how confusing all of this is to her right now. Remy wanted me to leave. He made it clear he was angry, and that was my fault. I did what he asked. And now Junie is paying for this the most, and I hate this.
I fold it carefully and set it out to give to Donna to bring to her.
In the morning, Willa and Rowan are waiting at the kitchen table with coffee and slices of quiche.
“You look like you didn’t sleep at all,” Rowan says.
“Thanks,” I mutter, sitting down.
Willa nudges the plate toward me. “Eat something. You’re no good to anyone if you fall over.”
I take a bite but barely taste it. “I keep hearing her cry. I keep thinking about the look on her face when I left.”
“Then go see her,” Willa says simply.
“It’s not that easy.”
Rowan shrugs. “Doesn’t have to be easy. You can do it even if it’s hard. What’s he going to do? Keep you from seeing his kid? He messed up, not Junie. She shouldn’t have to be punished because her dad’s being a dumbass.”
“Or you could just talk to him,” Mom suggests.
I stare at my coffee. “I still don’t know what to say to him.”
“Good,” Rowan says. “Make him do the talking. He shouldn’t have been a dickhead.”
