As I scan over their conversation, it’s clear Hallie’s been keeping tabs on Emma’s life, asking about tests and girl drama that I skim over, not wanting to learn anything my daughter hasn’t told me about, but with each conversation, my heart warms in my chest and the realization hits yet again, though this time it settles even deeper.
Hallie is perfect for me.
She’s not just perfect for me, but perfect forus,for this tiny family Emma and I have.
I want Emma to have this—to have Hallie, a woman who, unlike anyone else in her life, understands what she’s going through and the complicated relationship with her mother and could probably hold her hand through it all.
Despite what she wants to believe, Hallie belongs here.
TWENTY-TWO
I haven’t seen Jesse for two weeks.
In my defense, I don’tusuallysee Jesse that often, but now that I’m living on the King farm, it seems a bit more inevitable. Unless, of course, you’re avoiding him.
Which I am.
I feel bad, knowing from Wren that Emma’s been acting out a bit more over the past two weeks, but it’s what I need to be doing right now to protect my sanity and my heart.
But two weeks and a day after the night at The Mill, my phone rings as I’m folding laundry, and when I see Emma’s smiling face on the screen, my brow furrows. She texts me occasionally but never calls me. Quickly, I tap the screen and cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder as I answer.
“Hey, girl, what’s up?”
“Hallie?” she says, and pain lances through me at the realization of how much I miss her.
“Yeah, babe?”
“It’s Emma.”
I let out a small laugh. “Got that. You need something?” There’s a moment of silence that sits uneasy with me, and Idrop the shirt in my hands, giving the conversation all of my attention.
“I…I need help.” Her voice is shaky, and she sniffs like she’s been crying for a bit, and panic takes over, my mind going through a million and seven different outcomes while I try to remain calm.
“Okay. Where are you? Are you safe?” That’s when she starts to cry, delicate sniffles and tiny whimpers that tug at strands in my heart. “Emma, are you okay? Are you safe? Are you hurt?” She sniffs again, but relief floods me when she finally responds.
“I’m, I’m okay. I’m at home. I just don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks, a squeak coming through the line. My brow furrows as I check the clock. It’s eleven on a Saturday—Jesse should also be home. Why is she— “I could ask Dad, but he’s a boy. We learned about it in school, but they said it would happen in a few years, and none of my friends have gotten it.” Understanding slams into me, grief riding its tail. “And it hurts, and I don’t know what I should do, and I don’t have anything and, and, and?—”
I can sense her spiraling, and I take in a deep breath and nod, even though she can’t see it, before sitting on the edge of my bed. My pulse is pounding with nerves, but I try to calm myself.
She needs that from me.
Emma just got her period, and she’s upset.
Emma, who lives with her dad and rarely talks to her mother, just got her period for the first time.
And for some reason I don’t quite understand, she called me.
I don’t ask any other questions.
Instead, I stand, nodding again as if she can see, and start making a list in my mind.
“I’ll be there in five minutes, okay?”
“Thanks, Hallie,” she whispers, and the relief and gratitude are clear in those words.
“Any time. Hang tight, I’m on my way.”
I don’t even knock when I get to Jesse’s front door, and I’m relieved when the door opens easily, though that feeling is gone in a moment when Jesse’s booming voice reaches my ears. I move toward the sound quickly.
