It was…freeing.
But it also meant I’d been left with nothing to do.
That wasn’t strictly true, I supposed. Thanks to Evan, I had everything I needed to entertain myself. I could game,mess around on my laptop, do a puzzle. But none of those appealed.
I’d spent months willingly isolating myself, but the interactions over the past few weeks had reminded me of what I’d been missing out on. I was a social butterfly at heart, and I’d let my fear of the situation force that part of me back into its cocoon. Even though I’d been spending time with Evan, his friends, and his parents, I hadn’t really spent any time around other clan members. I rarely even ventured outside the house if there was a chance of running into someone.
Maybe it was time to stop hiding.
Marching downstairs, I sought out June, knowing she’d probably be going out to help someone today. I found her in the kitchen, stirring something on the hob.
“Good morning,” I chirped.
“Reid.” Her face lit up with a smile as she put the wooden spoon down and gathered me in a hug. She did the same thing every morning, and it never got old. “Did ye sleep well? Are ye hungry? I’ve got some porridge in the slow cooker.”
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes as she embraced me. Why was it suddenly upsetting me now? It hadn’t done before.
Probably because the Clarksons have popped back up. Now you’re remembering that no one there ever hugged you like this.
That made sense. I didn’t like it though. I might’ve said I was ready to speak to a therapist, but I’d taken approximately zero steps to make that happen.
Should probably get on that.
“I’m okay food-wise,” I said, clearing my throat and smiling as she let me go. “Drank a wee bit too much winelast night, which I’m totally blaming Hamish for, but thank ye.”
She hummed. “Well how about a cup of tea? Cures all manner of ills.”
“That would be great. I can make it though, don’t let me take ye away from your…” I peered in the direction of the pot. “Chilli?”
“Aye.” She chuckled, returning to her stirring. “Becca had her second wean a few days ago. She lives a few doors down. I’m cooking a few meals to take over to her. Last thing exhausted parents want is to have to worry about dinner, especially with a toddler running around too.”
I filled the kettle as she spoke, grabbing two cups automatically. “That’s so kind of ye.”
“It’s what we do,” she said, still stirring. “We all pull together during times like this. Births, deaths…just general exhaustion. Your clan is only as strong as your weakest member. You can’t succeed unless everyone is loved and cared for.”
The sob that burst free of me caught me by surprise. I slammed a hand over my mouth to try and stifle it, but it was too late.
Yep. I needed to stop putting therapy off.
“Oh, pet,” June exclaimed, bustling over and steering me over to the table. She clucked as I sobbed, rubbing my back soothingly. “That’s right. Let it all out, love.”
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, taking the tissue she offered me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m like a broken fucking tap.”
“It’s because you’ve bottled it all up for so long.” She hugged me tight as I continued to sob. “It’s no good for you. But you let it all out now. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Hours later, June and I were loaded up with several dishes and making our way to feed her neighbours. With the amount we’d cooked, I’d say they wouldn’t need to worry about dinners for at least a month. Possibly two.
After I’d had a good cry, June had poured the tea while I’d poured out my heart. I’d confided things in her that I hadn’t even realised I remembered. About how my parents argued. The ways my mother had neglected me. The abuse I’d suffered at the hands of my father. The lack of acceptance from the wider clan.
When I was finally done, she held me while I cried some more.
Then, she put me to work chopping what felt like a thousand different vegetables. As I chopped, she talked. Sharing what she’d been through. How difficult she’d found it to adjust when she first moved in with the McCarthy Clan. The ways her trauma still occasionally caught her off guard, even after all this time.
We both cried before she was done, but when she was, I felt lighter. I hoped she did too. From the smacking kiss she planted on my cheek, I suspected she did.
“Sure yer okay?” June asked, eyeing the precariously balanced pile I was holding.
“Yep,” I said cheerfully, ignoring the strain in my biceps. “Fine!”
