I shrug, trying to knock the hurt from my shoulders.“It’s true.You know it.I know it—I lived it once already.But know this, Venus.No matter where you are, how far you are, who you’re with, or how long it’s been—I’ll love you still.And I’ll always be here, hoping you’ll climb into my window.Hoping you needme.Hoping that… you finally feel safe enough to come home.”
My hand goes to my chest and rests over Frank the Frog, a last effort to assure her that everything’s okay.
Even though it isn’t.
I clear my throat to keep it from closing and take a pull on my inhaler.“I have to get back to Olly.”
She nods, and another tear slips.I don’t want to leave her like this.But I can’t handle any more, either.
“Promise me…” I thumb new tears away, hating that I can’t pull myself together.“Promise you won’t leave without saying goodbye.Not this time.Please.”
“I won’t.I promise.”
With a kiss to seal her words between us, I head toward the door.
But I hesitate before exiting.I twist to see her, standing there in her t-shirt and panties, tears specking her cheeks and colors streaming all around her.She’s so fucking sad and beautiful that it feels like death to leave her.
“Venus, thanks for what you did for Olly today,” I say, clearing my throat and finding strength from somewhere.“You were exactly what he needed.What I needed, too.”
A weak half-smile appears.“Tell Olly he’s brave.”
The door thwacks shut behind me.
Rushing away from the greenhouse feels like half my body is tearing away from me, inch by painful inch.Hurt leeches through my pores with the sweat now emanating in the summer heat and spills in the tears that I can’t seem to stop.In the middle of the tall soldiers, I rest against a tree, catching my breath and pulling myself together as best as I can for Olly’s sake.
I can’t believe I’ve lost her.
Spilling into Mom’s backyard, the grief hits me again—that’s the last time I’ll take that path.I take a breath, steeling myself behind the Fortress of Strength, like I did after Jay died.
Olly sits under a blanket between Mom and Fred on the couch.He looks heart-wrenchingly pathetic with his gauzed head, last year’s glasses, his thick green cast, and an exhausted twinge under his huge, round eyes.
“Olly, let’s go home,” I say, sounding curt but not meaning to.
He nods weakly and shoves the blanket away.
“Everything alright, Henry?”Fred asks, his bushy brow pinched with concern.
I glance at Mom, and anger resurfaces.“No, but Mom should be happy.”
“Henry, I’m sorry,” she whines.“What can I?—”
“Nothing,” I snap, still reeling over her words to Venus—today andthatnight.But I don’t have the energy to deal with Mom now.“Olly, don’t bother with your shoes.”
I reach down, lifting him with one arm until he’s latched to my side.His head falls to my shoulder.I grab his shoes and tote him to the Jeep.
Fred follows, edging around me to open Olly’s door.I tuck my tired, hurt son into his booster seat and click the harness into place.I tussle his hair.“Venus said to tell you you’re brave.”
“Venus said that?”His eyes widen, like she’s permitted him to be impressed with himself.
“Yep.Ready for home?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, squeezing Mango in his hand.“Is Venus coming too?”
The question makes my heart seize in my chest.I can’t answer.
Instead, I shut the door and turn toward Fred.“Thanks.”
“Hey, Henry, um, it’ll be alright.”
