Page 94 of Indigo

I shake my head. I can’t.

“Sweetheart,” she whispers. “You can’t carry that guilt around with you. It’s misplaced and unnecessary. I know you’re sad. I know.” She stops, pulls herself together and clears her throat. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to let that go. For me. Please.” A tear slowly makes its way down her cheek and I follow its path with my eyes.

“It’s not fair,” I whimper.

It’s not fair that I have to live my life without her while everyone else gets their mother. It’s not fair that I have to carry this grief around with me for the rest of my life. It’s not fair that I made it back to her and this town, only to have her torn away from me and be left standing here alone.

But you’re not alone, are you? You don’t have to be.

The thought makes my eyes dart to the doorway, my mind wandering to Pax.

Mum’s head turns, following my line of sight, and she sighs. “It’s not fair,” she agrees. “But I’ve never seen anyone love someone the way Pax loves you. The way he watches you is like something out of a fairytale. He adores you, sweetheart. Don’t push him away. Lean on him. He’ll get you through this just as much as you will yourself.”

Just as the words leave her mouth, Mum’s body jerks as if something just zapped her.

“What?” I ask, gripping her forearms as her fingers dig into my biceps. I look her over frantically, searching for any sign of pain or injury. “What’s wrong?”

She looks devastated for a moment. Her face falls, and then she nods as if someone is talking to her. Taking a deep breath, she pulls her shoulders back and plasters on a smile just for me. “I have to go.”

My body tenses, and I shake my head. “No. You can’t. Not yet. Please,” I beg, surging forward and burying my face against her neck. “Don’t leave me again. Please.” She makes soothing sounds against my ear, and pats my back in the comforting circles she always has when I’m upset, but it only makes me feel worse. “Please,” I whisper.

“I love you,” she says, her voice sounding further away. “I love you so much, kid.”

I jolt awake, sobbing, covered in sweat. The room is silent and dark, and I slowly turn my head toward the door, holding my breath, hoping she’s standing there.

She’s not, and my body wracks with sobs when I realise that all that’s looking back at me is a closed door.

“Baby,” Pax whispers, sounding half asleep, and then suddenly, he bursts into action. “Indie, baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He sits up in bed and pulls me to his chest as if he can protect me from whatever has hurt me this time.

“She was here,” I croak, leaning into his touch, his chest, his comfort. “She made coffee.”

A sad smile pulls at his lips as I look up at him. “You should have woken me up,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.

I nod, letting my grief overwhelm me. I cry until my throat hurts, until my eyes burn, until my chest aches. And the entire time, Pax holds me. He rocks me back and forth in his lap, whispering words of comfort in my ear. He brushes the hair from my face and places soft kisses on my cheeks. He tells me how much he loves me, how sorry he is that I’m hurting, that he’ll never leave me. Never.

I fall asleep for the first time in what feels like forever, wrapped in love, with the hope that tomorrow will be a little better.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be okay, even though Mum isn’t here, because I havehim.

-32-

INDIGO

“YOU SURE YOU DON'T WANTme to come with you?” Pax asks from the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

He’s worried about me. I know he is. It’s only been a week since the dream that sent me into a forty-eight-hour emotional spiral. I slept, ate donuts, watched Gilmore Girls, and wallowed in my feelings until I decided enough was enough. After a long shower, some more crying and way more coffee than necessary, I cleaned the house and faced reality.

A reality that wasn’t half as bright as I remembered it, but still beautiful regardless of my loss.

I shake my head at the silly man hovering over me as I tie my shoes and smile up at him. “I need to do this. I’ll be fine.”

He nods, but the reservation on his face shows he isn’t as convinced as I am that when I return home, I’ll be okay. I stand, move across the room to him, and place a kiss on the middle of his bare chest.

The smell of his freshly showered skin sends tingles through my body. It’s been too long since he’s touched me, since I’ve touched him, and in my head, this is the last step I need to take before I can really start moving forward.

My heart aches at the thought, but I need this. I need to start living again, not just existing in a state of grief and anger.

“I won’t be long,” I whisper, lifting my hand and placing it on his pec. Over the tattoo he got for me. “I can do this,” I add, before standing on my toes to kiss him gently on the corner of his down turned mouth.

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