Guess we’re about to find out.
27
Addie
I sitin Duncan’s guest room, watching over Paisley until she falls asleep.
You’d think it’s odd for an eighteen-year-old girl to want someone to protect her from the monsters, but this is so far from the first time in my life I’ve done something like this.
And that makes me sad.
Sad, and angry, and fucking determined.
“You get to make mistakes and take up space and have needs and not be sorry for it,” I whisper to her, hoping her brain hears it and absorbs it subconsciously.
I see so much of myself in Duncan’s niece.
The independence. The drive. The hatred of asking for help.
Hers doesn’t come from the same place mine does, but she has it. And so many of the young women and girl athletes that I volunteer with around town have it too.
Working with them, talking to their coaches, has made me recognize the link between the expectation of perfectionism for girls and their unwillingness to ask for help.
My hope in Paisley’s case is that I can be a good enough influence on her in the next few years that she learns it’s okay to ask for help so much sooner than I did. It’ll be a journey, but I’m here for it, and I believe in both of us.
And I’m definitely still on my own journey.
If I’d worked through it all, I wouldn’t have kept Duncan at arm’s length. I wouldn’t have withdrawn my name for consideration for Santiago’s job. I’d probably spend more time with my brothers and their wives too.
There’s still work to do for me to fully embrace the joy of being who I am without apology in all parts of my life. But it’ll be worth it. And I won’t have to do it alone.
Duncan will be there.
The Fireballs will get a front-row seat.
Waverly and Paisley will cheer me on every bit as much as I’ll cheer them on.
It’s three a.m.
Duncan has practice in a few hours, and tomorrow, he leaves for his first road trip.
But he’s sitting at the top of the stairs, not sleeping.
Waiting.
Watching me with the wariest of wary expressions in the dim light coming off of the hallway nightlight. His hair’s disheveled. His jaw is tight. And his shirt is bunched at the neck like he’s been tugging on it.
“She’s asleep,” I whisper to him.
“She wanted you.”
I settle on the top step next to him. Something’s off. Is this ego? Or hurt uncle? Or something else?
I’d say I was surprised Paisley wanted me instead of him, except I wasn’t. Not entirely. “There are some things girls understand better than boys. Even when they have the bestuncle in the world. It’s not you. I promise there’s nothing wrong with you.”
He’s still watching me like he’s waiting for something awful to happen.
Or likethere are things girls understandwasn’t a good enough reason for me to take charge of handling his niece.
