Her stomach ached, feeling like it was clenching to vomit. She didn’t have much in her to expel, but that was little blessing.
Hallie glanced her away, not needing anything from her but seeming to notice the way she was collapsing in on herself. She reached to flick the heated seats on—her own too, as if it was merely because the day was colder up here.
Audrey could have cried as the warmth slowly penetrated her clothes and seeped into her screaming muscles. She pressed back into the seat, desperate for more of it. She almost wanted it to burn, to strip away the scorched layers of hurt, of trying to connect with her mother and having the same thing as always happen again, to burn off the need to be around them.
She tried to zip all of those thoughts up. They weren’t helpful now. There was nothing she could do. She had to be okay before they got where they were going.
Outside the windows, the snow was thick on the ground and something about that felt right, gentle, clean. Pristine blankets of untouched nature. Nothing that could hurt her.
Well, so long as she didn’t ingest it because—no. She cleared her throat, forcing those thoughts away. They kept going in the back of her mind.
Hallie drove them up a quiet road. Snow-capped trees surrounded homes with their Christmas decorations up. And Audrey still didn’t know where they were going but she looked at the GPS and realized they were in the Traverse City area. They’d been driving longer than she realized.
She sucked in steadying breaths, slow, measured. She got the feeling they were almost there and she’d need to be able to speak.
They took another turn.
Finally, Hallie pulled into a driveway and smiled. Wherever they were, it was someplace she liked, and that told Audrey it would be safe.
She left the car running, likely because of the cold, and turned to face Audrey.
Audrey looked up at the house. Number thirty-one. They weren’t on, but strings of festive lights lined the roof and the bushes in the garden. It was beautiful, homely, welcoming. And she was too far gone to even worry about who might be inside.
“Are you okay?” Hallie asked quietly.
Now, Audrey had to speak. Her body needed to remember how. She nodded, swallowing convulsively. This was a silly reaction to her mother being the same way she always was. She was being a baby. She needed to grow up and learn how to cope with things. Instead, she’d freaked out and forced Hallie to drive them hours across the state.
“Hey,” Hallie said, carefully pressing a hand to Audrey’s shoulder, “you’re safe. I’m here.”
Audrey coughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you bring us here.”
She smiled. “It is absolutely no hassle coming here, I can promise you that. And I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it.”
“What is it?” She looked up at the house again. The chimney suggested someone was inside, but nobody had come out. Nobody was rushing them or pressuring them. Audrey didn’t understand.
“My mom’s house. I don’t live too far away, but this place is much nicer than mine, and, well, I figured you could use this.”
Audrey’s heart clenched. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know. I wanted to. And we can go in whenever you’re ready.”
“We have to go now. Your mom…”
“She’ll be fine waiting until we’re ready. No rush. No problem. Just take all the time you need.”
Audrey’s stomach ached again. She knew she’d need to eat today but she couldn’t help being glad she hadn’t so far.
If they’d been at her parents’ house, they’d have been out the door already. They’d have been demanding she come inside. Some people found that welcoming, but it wasn’t that. This was welcoming. Hallie’s mom’s patience made going inside feel like something Audrey could do.
She finally stopped tapping and reached to take Hallie’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know this is ridiculous and silly and nothing bad really happened.”
“Audrey,” Hallie breathed. “What you’re experiencing isn’t coming from one incident of your mom getting upset. I mean, even if it was that, you’d still be entitled to be hurt that you told your mom something good and she made it all about her and put that on you, but it’s not that. It’s years of your whole family mistreating you.”
“They’re not mistreating me. It’s not that bad.”
“I know that’s what they have you tell yourself, and I support you doing what you have to in order to protect yourself, butfamilies who love you don’t act the way yours does. And how you’re feeling is a direct result of how they’ve always treated you.”
Audrey didn’t want to cry. She wanted to make everything okay. That was her job. But Hallie didn’t buy it. She didn’t want to sweep everything away and pretend it didn’t matter. Maybe that was good in the long run, but, in the moment, Audrey wasn’t sure what to do.
