Page 145 of Late Nights & Love Lines
“Dad?” She stares up at me with sadness in her overflowing eyes, then sets her pleading gaze on Rowan. “I saw her. I—she told me to go home. Why? Why is she here if she doesn’t want to see us?”
Tugging her into my chest, I hold her tight as she balls up my shirt in her fists.
“Your mom is sick, Ser.”
She nods. “I didn’t think I wanted to see her.” Seren chokes back a sob. “But she’s my mom and…she doesn’t want to see me. She’s going to die, isn’t she?”
I hug her tighter. “Yes.”
Her nodding continues as if she’s processing this information with each bob of her head.
“Are you going to tell the boys?” she asks.
“I—I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “I want to talk to the therapist because there’s not a straightforward answer here, Ser.”
“If she doesn’t want to see us, and if I get a vote, I don’t think we should tell them. It just makes it hurt more.”
Closing my eyes, I suck in air through my nose until my lungs burn.
“You always get a vote, Seren,” Row says quietly.
My soul dies a little. “I wish I could shield you from this heartache, baby girl.”
“No,” Seren says, swiping angry tears. “It’s good that I know so I don’t make her out to be something she’s not in my head.” She glares at Rowan, then her face falls before she glares again.
She has so many emotions she can’t process but manages to tell us so many things in that moment with only her eyes.
“I love you, Ser. We all love you.” She wrings her wrist in front of her before finally, her shoulders sag. “I know, Daddy. I—I’m going to go to the music room at camp, if that’s okay.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask.
“No, thanks. I need…”
“I get it,” I tell her. And I do, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. “But promise me that you’ll talk to us, okay? We can’t make the world make sense, but we can love you through the pain of it.”
“I will,” she promises. She turns to Rowan, and after a moment’s hesitation, she buries herself in Rowan’s arms.
“Ser, why don’t you tell the boys to pack it up, and we’ll drive you back to the house. You can head to the music room from there,” I say.
Nodding, she pulls out of Rowan’s embrace, or tries to anyway. Rowan hasn’t quite released her. “Not yet,” Rowan whispers.
With a log cutting off my airway, I go help my boys pack up their stuff.
“I’ll be right back,okay, bud?”
Miles lifts his face from the puzzle we’re doing together. “Sure, Dad.”
Patting his arm, I walk toward the deck, where Rowan’s pacing with the wind whipping her hair in every direction.
“Peach?”
She stops abruptly.
“Want to talk about it?”
She bites her lips and shakes her head.
“Are you sure? Because you kinda look like you need to talk about some stuff.”
