“I know you didn’t,” I whisper. “That’s the thing. I’m not angry with you, because it wasn’t on purpose. But when you were tired, or stressed, or dealing with the boys, it was easier to let me step in. And I volunteered. But that taught me thatmyneeds weren’t important.”
Her face crumples. “You were such a responsible child. We never had to ask you to do anything. So when life was overwhelming, you were the first person we thought of—and that’s not fair to you. I genuinely just thought you liked helping.”
“I do,” I say, laying my hand on her. “I like discovering when I’m good at things, and I like taking care of people. That part of me isn’t broken. But somewhere between childhood and becoming a single mom, it stopped being a choice and became an absolute truth, so I felt safe.” I sigh, feeling lighter.
She nods, and I tuck away the guilt I feel at being honest.
“I don’t want Phoebe to forget that being a kid is the most important thing. Aiden and I want to teach her that love doesn’t come with conditions—that she can take up as much space as she’d like and we’ll still love her.”
I feel like I’m telling my mom she failed, but I’m not. She didn’t.
She just didn’t know this was something that was happening, becauseIdidn’t recognize it to give it a voice.
I feel a little bad that I’ve had time to adjust to these thoughts and feelings, and she’s getting it all at once.
Especially when she pushes up from her chair and pulls me into a hug so tight, I can hardly breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers into my hair. “We should’ve seen it. I should’ve seen it.” Her voice breaks. “I leaned on you when I should’ve been protecting you. That wasn’t your job.”
I clutch the back of her robe like I’m eight again, and let her words wash over me.
“I almost didn’t stay when I found out Dad would be fine,” I confess. “It hurt to come back and feel all of those feelings. But I needed to do it. I needed to know why I can’t enjoy a long bath without feeling guilty or why I was working myself into the ground.”
She eases back enough to cup my face in her hands.
“Chloe, you’re part of this family. This isn’t a team where you have to audition to be included, and you’re cut if you slack off. And if we made you feel that way, that’s onus. Give yourself permission to let that go.”
“I’m trying,” I tell her. “I promise. I’m trying to get my head and my heart on the same wavelength.”
Her expression softens. “I have no doubt you’ll get there. And we’ll do our part, too. I’m glad you’ve got Aiden. That he saw this and was already choosing to help you form new habits.”
“He loves me even when I frustrate him because I can’t just sit on the couch. It’s uncomfortable for me to sit still, when I know there are things I should—” I clear my throat “Couldbe doing.”
Mom smiles, watery and proud. “Good. You deserve that. And for what’s it worth? I’m glad you came, even though we just saw you. I miss having you around. And not because you helped out around here. Not just because of Phoebe. Because I love you, and you bring me more joy than I could ever tell you. Maybe I should do that with you more, too. Give you words that don’t have anything to do with work or being efficient or smart.”
The words land softly, soaking into a wound that’s been open for years. It lets me breathe.
When she goes to check on dad, I get up, rinse my coffee mug, and put it in the dishwasher. Not because it’s expected, or because anyone asked me to.
For the easy, practical reason that I’d do the same at my house.
I might’ve walked in here still fighting the beliefs I learned here.
But I’m leaving with permission to stop.
And it feels amazing.
fifty-one
CHLOE
There’sa distinct difference between Enchanted Hollow during daylight hours and at night.
That’s probably true everywhere. But here, especially during the holidays, light is almost a citizen. The buildings on the square are outlined in cozy bulbs, and every tree is wrapped in lights whose colors change with the seasons.
Shop windows glow warm against the cold, and there’s a low, steady buzz of conversation as people mill about the square, bundled in coats and scarves, laughter curling through the air like steam.
I’d forgotten how cold it gets here, and my thinner gloves aren’t doing as much as I wish they were. Like he can read my thoughts, Aiden’s hand finds mine.
