“Lonely, I guess.”
“Lonely how?” I asked.
She put the rest of the blondie back on the tray. “Nobody knows how to talk about June. Not just at school and with my friends and stuff, but even here, at home. Sometimes I just want to talk about her, you know? Like not about how she died or about what Chris did to her but just about her. About the way she was and all the things I miss about her.”
My eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Liv. I want to talk about her too.”
“You do?”
I nodded. “I miss her so fucking much, Every minute of every day. I even…” I hesitated, wondering if it would freak Olivia out that I talked to June.
“What? You can tell me.”
“I hear her voice. Like, not just an echo of it, like she might be calling me from the next room, but I hear her voice so clearly talking about all the things that are happening in my life, like she’s right there and we’re having a whole conversation.”
“Really?” Olivia’s expression brightened. “Does she answer you?”
“She actually does. And I answer back. And it’s so real it hurts when she goes quiet again. I miss her attitude and the way she made me laugh. I miss how she was always stopping to pet people’s dogs and cats.”
“And birds!’ Olivia said. “Remember that guy on the cruise with the parrot?”
I laughed. “He wanted to come home with us, with June.”
Olivia started to laugh. “The guy had to lock him in his cage when we left the boat.”
“I can’t believe you can remember that! You were so little.”
“I remember everything about June. Or I try to.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to ever forget her.”
I leaned over to hug her. “You won’t. I won’t let you. We’ll just have to talk about her more, and not just us. Mom and Dad and Simon too.”
Olivia sniffled. “It hurts them to talk about her.”
“I know, but it will hurt them more not to talk about her.” I realized now that I’d been that way too. I’d hidden behind my anger toward Chris, toward Ethan Todd, using it as a shield against the pain behind it.
But the pain was part of what had happened. Part of June’s story.
Of ours.
June wouldn’t want us to block out the sad part, but she wouldn’t want us to dwell on it either.
The Butchers had taught me that. Somehow with them, there was room for it all: my rage toward Ethan Todd and my pain at losing June, but also the passion of falling in love with them and the comforts of home and my love for Ray. There was room to miss June and laugh at Remy’s latest catastrophe, room for sorrow and room for the passion of being naked with all three of my men.
I was learning that if I just let it all happen, I could make space for it all, even when it sounded impossible.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I said. “But I’m here now, and I promise I won’t leave you again.”
The promise sat heavy between us, because if there was one thing we’d both learned it was that no one could really promise to stay. Sometimes people left even when they didn’t want to.
But she knew what I meant.
She held up her pinky and I linked mine around it.
“Time to swap?” I said, looking at the walls.
“Time to swap.” She got to her feet. “I think June would really like the green.”
I blinked away my tears. “I think so too."
