“All of you.
“Matty,” I say softly, “you were the one who walked me to the bus stop every morning.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“You helped me with my homework.” I laugh quietly. “You made sure I brushed my teeth every night. Just like Mom used to do for you.”
Matty’s lip trembles.
I turn to Shelby. “And you taught me how to braid my hair.”
Shelby lets out a watery laugh.
“And how to do my makeup,” I continue. “Remember when I tried eyeliner the first time and looked like a raccoon?”
Shelby snorts through her tears. “You did look like a raccoon.”
I grin and look at Charli. “And you taught me how to ride.”
Charli crosses her arms, but her eyes are glassy.
“You helped me pick out my prom dress,” I say.
Her jaw tightens.
“And you taught me how to throw a punch if my date got too handsy.”
Shelby bursts out laughing.
“Still one of my proudest lessons,” Charli mutters.
My chest warms as I look at them.
“I don’t feel like I missed out on being loved by her,” I say quietly.
The words come easily now.
“Because I was loved by the three women she raised.”
The porch light glows softly over us.
Matty wipes tears from her cheeks.
Shelby leans her head against my shoulder.
Charli stares out at the pasture like she’s trying to pretend her eyes aren’t shiny.
“And she’d be so proud of her Storm girls,” I continue.
I lift my glass.
“Strong.” Matty lifts hers too.
“Brave,” Shelby adds.
Charli raises her glass. “Fearless,” she says.
“And wild,” I finish.
