The one food I had never been able to stomach.
“Thank you, Mom,” I said with a forced smile, and Anna took it away from me, whispering something to Kyle.I squeezed her hand, feeling grateful.
Anna always cooked me eggs or treated me to ice-cream if my mom forced me to finish the dish.Mom never understood I couldn’t swallow anything with eggplant.
But Mom’s gaze sharpened.“Why did you take it away?Go on, Katie.You should eat it.”
“I don’t want to,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice neutral.Thankfully, everyone else seemed too engrossed in the presentation of my childhood pictures flashing through the huge television screen.
“Don’t start this again.”Her eyes narrowed.“Just eat your food.Stop being picky.I made it with so much love.”
My stomach churned, and I gripped my fork tighter.
“I said I don’t want to,” I repeated, my words firm.
“But Katie?—”
Before the argument could boil over, Anna laid her hand over our mother’s wrist.“Mom.Drop it.”
“But she?—”
“Drop it,” Anna said again, sharper.
The air felt suffocating, and I couldn’t look at anyone as I shoved back my chair.“I need some air,” I said, my voice barely audible as I walked away.
I went to the backyard, thankful for the cool night air and the soft breeze rustling the leaves.I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm myself.
Thirty years old.And still, my mother made me feel like the strange little girl she’d always wanted to fix.As if my quirks were flaws.Like my refusals were childish tantrums instead of boundaries.
I swiped at my cheeks, my breathing uneven.I didn’t want to cry.I was angry.“Stupid,” I whispered to myself.“Don’t ruin your night.”
The sound of footsteps behind me made me stiffen.
“Katie?”It was Dylan, his voice velvety and soft.
I turned, and he was there in the glow of the porch light, concern etched on his handsome features.
“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer.“You okay?”
I laughed bitterly.“Do I look okay?”
It was wrong.Scolding him because of what my mother did.He had given me such thoughtful gifts, and I was anchoring my anger towards him.
“No,” he said, standing beside me and watching the calm water of the pool.His shoulder brushed mine.“But you don’t have to be.”
Something inside me cracked.“It’s always the same,” I whispered.“She doesn’t hear me.She never did.I could scream, and she’d still just… tell me to stop being difficult.”
Dylan stayed quiet, his silence warm and comforting.It made me feel safe and protected.
Tears blurred my vision again, and I wiped them away.“Sorry.I didn’t mean to?—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off, his voice firm but soft.“Don’t apologize for your feelings.Just pretend I’m a tree.Standing here.Unshakable.Offering you support, shadow, and fruits.Maybe I’m an apple tree.You like apples, right?Because my roots are deep and?—”
I exhaled shakily, finally meeting his gaze.“Thank you, Dylan,” I said, interrupting his silly rambling.
He leaned close, brushing his thumb over my cheek to wipe my tears.The touch was electric, my whole body going still under his hand.The air between us was charged with something intense… and warm.
My breath hitched in my throat when his gaze dropped to my lips.
