I shift a little so we’re both more comfortable against the pillows. “I got sick. Felt off. Got really frustrated with the smallest things. I’d wake up in night sweats with wetness beneath me on the bed and thought maybe I peed myself or something. It made me feel like a big baby until the doctor told me what was going on.”
Her eyes grow brighter. “That’s what happened to me, too. I was so worried about telling Daddy I peed the bed. I’m a big girl. We don’t pee the bed.”
I smile down at her softly and stroke my fingers through her hair. “When Omegas present early, our instincts wake up before we’re ready. That’s why everything feels confusing. Your body is telling you one thing but your brain is telling you another, and you don’t always know what’s happening or why. It can be scary sometimes, and that’s okay, too.”
“Were you scared?”
I give her a small laugh. “Oh, yeah. Terrified. And I stunk.”
Amber groans. “Ugh, I hate the stink.”
“But none of that was my fault,” I continue softly. “It wasn’t my fault that I presented early. It wasn’t my fault that I stunk. And just like those weren’t my fault, what happened to your mother was not your fault.”
Amber’s head drops back to my shoulder. “I think about her a lot.”
“Yeah?” I ask as I thread my arm around her. She nods as she snuggles closer. “Do you and your dad ever talk about her?”
She shrugs. “I don’t wanna make him sad, so I don’t say anything.”
My heart squeezes. “So you keep all of this to yourself? That’s not very good.”
She’s silent for a few seconds. “I think about her when I’m trying to sleep. Or when people talk about their moms at school.”
Her voice cracks a little on that last word, and it kills me a little inside.
Amber wipes at her face. “I don’t wanna ask Dad questions because it might hurt his feelings.”
I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the rest of the tear trail she didn’t get on her own.
“You want to know something?” I ask.
“What?”
“Your dad loves you more than anything in the world.”
Amber nods immediately. “I know.”
“And sometimes,” I continue gently, “when people love each other that much, they both try to protect each other from sad things.”
Her brow furrows.
“Think about it,” I say as Pickles inches his face closer to Amber’s hand. “You don’t want to talk to your dad about it because you’re worried it might make him sad. Did you ever think he feels the same way? That he doesn’t want to bring things up with you too much because it might make you sad?”
Amber’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”
“See how that can happen?”
She leans back a little so she can look at me properly. “I never thought about it like that.”
I smile softly. “It happens a lot, especially with people who love one another.”
Amber picks at the sleeve of my shirt for a moment. “What should I do?”
I gently cup her cheek again. “Tell him how you’re feeling, sweet pea. Tell him that you want to know about your mother. That you want the stories and the memories he has of her, even if it hurts.”
“You don’t think it’ll make him mad?”
“Not one bit.”
