“You can’t honestly believe that.”
“I do.” I glare daggers at my mom, my heart breaking. “This. Was. My. Fault. I’m not good for them.”
My mom stares at me, her eyes welling with tears.
“Oh, god, mom, don’t cry?—”
“This is myfault,” she whispers, and my eyes turn wide as saucers.
“What the hell are you talking about?!”
“Your dad said this might happen, and he was right.” A tear slides down my mom’s cheek. “Oh, no.”
“Mom,what?”
“You saw me do this all the time,” she whispers. “I still do it, today. And now I’ve passed it down to you.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand. My mom rarely cries, and to see her do it is terrifying. “Mom, it’s fine. I’mfine.”
“Remember how dad told you we were in therapy?”
I nod. “You said it was to make your marriage stronger.”
“Sweetheart, I take the burden of things that aren’t my responsibility. That’s something that I’m working on,” my mom says. “Now you’re doing it, too. I showed you growing up that it was okay to do.”
I frown. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. You blame yourself for things that aren’t you fault, just like I do. And it’smyfault.”
“Okay,” I huff. “Just so I’m clear, you’re blaming yourself formeblamingmyself? How does that work?”
“It means you both are ridiculous,” my dad says from behind the door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I sigh, perching on top of the blanket. My dad enters and stands at the foot of the bed, looking at my mother and me, his grey eyebrows furrowed. Then, he points to me.
“You.”
I blink at him at him wearily.
“I’ll bedamnedif you don’t let yourself be happy. You found your scent buddies or whatever?—”
“Scent matches, dad.”
“Scent boys, and you’re so scared that something bad will happen that you refuse to be with them?”
I nod, ashamed.
“So where does it stop?” he demands. “Are you going to leave Mer and Marv with their grandma because you’re terrified that maybe one of them will choke on a treat you give them? Will you stop working at the rescue because maybe something will happen while you’re there?”
I look down and shake my head.
“I wish I could take back that night, kiddo. I wish more than anything than that car accident didn’t happen. But that’s what it was, Blair. Anaccident.”
I stare at the threading on the comforter, biting my lip.
“This house is not a place to hide in. We love having you here, but you’re not here for the right reasons.”
“You said I could stay as long as I want,” I grumble.
