I righted myself and he released my waist but not my hand. “I must look a mess,” I whispered, ducking my head as we continued to walk.
“You could never be a mess, Maia.”
I scoffed, finally feeling the embarrassment of Baird holding my hair back. Groaning, I covered my face with my free hand. “You saw me upchuck.”
He tugged on my wrist, his tone amused. “Babe, do you know how many times I’ve thrown up outside of a nightclub?”
My lips curled in a grateful smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell me the number.”
His expression was instantly serious. “What made you sick? Because I know it wasn’t the three cocktails.”
“It’s stupid,” I whispered. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Maia, I don’t know how to make you believe that you never have to be embarrassed with me.”
Fine. He was right. Baird had never given me cause to not trust him with my feelings.
“It was the song.”
“The ‘Kids’ song?”
I nodded, watching my every step carefully and wishinglike hell I could take my stupid heels off and walk the rest of the way home barefoot. Not in this city, though.
“What about it?”
That immediate emotion I’d felt after I was sick threatened to burst forth again. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat and choked out, “It was my mum’s favorite song. When I was about twelve or so, she would play it constantly. We’d dance in the kitchen to it, shouting the lyrics at the top of our voices. And she would … it was like she was—” My voice broke, and I blinked rapidly to stop the tears, but it only caused them to flow over.
Baird tugged me closer as I swiped at them.
“It … It was like she was singing the lyrics at me. Like she was telling me what she wanted to say but couldn’t. That’s what it was like with her for so long. One minute she’d make me believe there was a mum in there who did love me but just didn’t know how to show it. Then she’d rip it all away and I’d feel hopeless again. Worthless.”
He stopped us, pulling me back into his arms as I cried quietly, soaking his shirt all over again.
“It’s s-so s-st-stupid. I’m th-thirty y-years o-old. It … it sh-shouldn’t still hu-hurt like this.”
“It’s not stupid, My. You could be eighty and this would still hurt. A mum is supposed to protect their child. To put their kid first. If she was here in front of me, I might fucking kill her.”
I gripped tighter to his shirt, turning my cheek so I could speak, trying to calm my tears. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that s-song and re-reacted like that. S-so weird.”
“It’s triggering panic attacks.”
Gently, I pushed away from him. “I-I don’t think it’s a panic attack.”
“Babe.” Baird reached down to swipe his thumb over my cheek and I saw black on it. Mascara. Damn it, I probably looked like a raccoon. “I know a panic attack when I see one.”
I frowned. “But why just that song? I’ve never had a panic attack about anything else.”
“Because …” He bent his head toward mine, expression gentle. “The song represents all the complicated feelings you have about your mum. It’s the thing that hurts most—that she could have loved you the way you needed her to, but she chose not to.”
My mouth trembled as fresh tears sprang free. He was so wise. I nodded.
Baird tried to catch the tears with his thumbs, his expression almost agonized. Like my pain was his pain. “You deserve so much better, Maia.”
“Bear …”
He wiped my cheeks again and pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you home, beautiful. I’ll make you a cup of tea and some toast. That’ll help.”
I snuggled into his side, confused by my tumultuous emotions but grateful to him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
