Evening came too fast. They watched another movie, Allegra's choice again, some superhero thing with too many explosions. She provided running commentary about comic book accuracy while June braided her hair, fingers gentle and practiced.
"You should do Bri's hair too," Allegra suggested. "She never lets anyone touch it."
"My hair's fine."
"It's not about that, it's about bonding. Right, Mom?"
So Briar found herself on the floor in front of the couch, her mother’s fingers working through her dark curls while Allegra explained why the movie's interpretation of superhero physics was "completely wrong but still cool."
She closed her eyes, let herself feel it all. Her mother's careful hands and Allegra’s enthusiastic monologue. The way the house still smelled of garlic and basil and how the couch creaked each time her mother shifted positions.
The warmth of being between the two people she loved most in the world.
I'll remember this,she promised herself.Every second.
"Bri? You falling asleep?" Allegra asked.
"Just relaxed."
"Good," she said softly. "You never relax anymore."
By ten o’clock, Allegra was yawning despite insisting she wasn't tired. June herded her toward bed with promises of pancakes again in the morning if she went without arguing.
"Two days in a row?" Allegra's eyes widened. "Who are you and what did you do with my mother?"
"Don't push it."
"Love you too," Allegra called, then paused at Briar's chair. "Hey. Thanks for today. For being here."
"Where else would I be?"
"Work? Like you always were before?" She shrugged and gave Briar a quick, fierce hug, then bounded off to bed.
June lingered in the living room, tidying things that didn't need tidying, the silence hanging heavy between them.
"You should sleep," Briar said at last.
"So should you." June replied before she picked up a throw pillow, fluffed it, and set it down in the exact same spot. "You're leaving tonight."
Not a question.
"Early morning," Briar admitted. "Before dawn."
June nodded, still focused on the pillow. "The letters are in your desk?"
"How did you…?"
"I wrote letters too, after… I never sent them, but..." She finally looked at Briar and then down at her wrist where the mark was hidden from view. "Will it hurt?"
"I don't know."
"He's not... he won't be cruel?"
Briar thought of green-gold eyes and casual touches that burned, of "little thief" said with dark affection, and how the mark moved beneath her skin like something hungryand horribly alive. Under these circumstances, wasn’t cruelty an inevitability? "I don't think so."
Briar wasn’t sure who she was lying to, her mother or herself.
"Good." June crossed the room, pulled Briar into a hug that felt desperate. "I'm so sorry, baby. So sorry."
