As the truck rumbles to life, my tears flow faster. When she pulls away, waving as she goes, I start to crumble. By the time her taillights disappear and Mama’s familiar scent wraps around me, I can barely hold myself up.
“She’s gone,” I gasp, burrowing myself into her chest. “She told me she loved me, and then she left, and I’ll never see her again.”
I should feel bad for getting tears and snot all over Mama’s shirt, but I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when my soul is being torn apart. It’s a cruel twist of fate, having the love of your life just for the summer. Addison Riley tattooed her name on my heart, and there’s no chance of removing it.
“Shhh, I know, baby. I know. Let it all out. I’m right here for whatever you need.” Mama doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay because she knows it won’t help. She simply helps me get inside and sets me on the couch with a glass of ice water.
Hudson is sitting on the floor playing with a farm set Daddy bought him. His head tilts in question when he sees me and shuffles over, sliding a tan horse that looks a lot like Honeysuckle next to my thigh. What’s left of my heart nearly bursts, and more tears flow at his thoughtfulness. His toys comfort him and sharing them is a big step.
He’s been warming up to us. He still doesn’t talk much, only when he’s around the horses. Someone takes him to the barn atleast four times a day so he can see them, and he babbles on and on with them. Bry plans on letting him ride one later this week.
“Thank you, Hudson,” I whisper.
His big hazel eyes blink at me before a chubby finger points at my face. “Why you crying?”
“Juniper’s sad right now, but she’ll be okay,” Bry murmurs, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for sharing your horse with her, I’m sure it makes her feel better.”
I shouldn’t be breaking down in front of her, not when she has everything else weighing her down. I need to pull myself together so I can be here for her and Hudson.
I attempt to smile at Hudson, but I’m sure it comes off as more of a grimace. Done with the conversation, he toddles back over to his toys and plops down on the floor, moving the animals around in a game only he knows.
My sister sits next to me on the couch, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you that you’ll be okay, and I won’t ask about her right now, but someday I’d like to know about her. Until you’re ready, though, I’m here for you.”
“You’re the one going through something hard. My problems are minuscule in comparison to yours, and?—”
Bry shakes her head. “What I’m going through may be rough, but so is heartbreak. Grief doesn’t care if someone else might have it worse. It’ll hit you anyway. We’re both grieving, Juni, and we’re going to need each other. So, lean on me, I’ll lean on you, and we’ll get through this together.”
“I’m glad you’re home, Bry. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. It’s good to be back, even if the circumstances aren’t ideal. I mean, I never thought I’d be the guardian of a toddler at twenty-eight.”
“The universe has a way of throwing stuff in our paths when we leastexpect it.”
“You can say that again.”
I spent all day trying to outrun the sadness trying to consume me by following Briar and Mama around.
It didn’t work.
Oakley chattered my ear off at dinner, likely trying to keep my mind offher, but I can tell she misses Addison just as much. I could barely eat anything, and by the time I got home, I was ready to fall asleep. I forced myself to shower and change my sheets so they wouldn’t smell like Addison.
It’s almost two in the morning now, and I can’t keep my eyes closed. My bed feels too empty without her warmth, and there are too many questions running through my head.
Did Addison make it to Salt Lake?
Did she run into any trouble?
What if she got into an accident on the way and she’s alone in a hospital somewhere, with no way to reach us? I’m not her emergency contact, so there’s no reason for anyone to call her former employer to let us know.
What if I had gone with her?
What if I asked her to stay here?
I’m sure there’s somewhere she could train Athena in Copper Creek or the surrounding area.
But would she be happy here long term? She’d have to leave to compete, and I don’t know if my anxiety would let me go with her. Would a relationship survive that?
I shouldn’t be focusing on hypotheticals. Our time together has ended, and I won’t be seeing her again. I’ll never feel the rough pads of her fingers trace against my skin, I’ll never hear the rasp in her voice when she wakes up in the morning, and I’ll never see the smile she tries to hide when she sees me after a long day.
