I lean back against the counter. “That’s a dramatic interpretation.”
“Is it?”
She crosses her arms. “Rory, I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other since you were about twelve.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Dance around?”
“Yes.”
“That’s… accurate, I guess.”
She laughs softly. “But it’s true.”
I stare down at the glass in my hand. Because the annoying thing is that she isn’t wrong. Freya has always been… there. In the background of every stage of my life. Always close enoughthat losing her would feel like something fundamental shifting out of place. Which is exactly why this whole situation feels so dangerous.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Mum adds gently.
“Good.”
“But I will say this.”
Here it comes. She tilts her head slightly. “If you care about someone, you shouldn’t spend your whole life pretending you don’t.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Easy for you to say.”
“I’m just being honest, Rory. Don’t lose something special out of fear.”
From upstairs Isla shouts, “Dad! I found a pinecone in my bag!”
“Excellent,” I call back. “Nature has followed us home.”
Mum smiles faintly. “You see?”
“What?”
“You already look happier than you did last week.”
I pause and scrub a hand through my hair. “Nothing has happened,” I say eventually.
Mum raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t say it had.”
Right. I push away from the counter. Busted by my own mother. “I’m going to check on Isla before she dismantles the entire upstairs.”
“Alright.”
As I reach the doorway she says quietly behind me,
“Just remember something.”
I glance back.
“People can’t choose you if they don’t know you’re choosing them.”
Jesus. This woman always knows exactly what to say. I stare at her for a moment. Then head upstairs.
Isla is sitting on her bedroom floor surrounded by clothes and what appears to be a small pile of rocks she has decided are souvenirs.
“Look,” she says proudly. “This one looks like a frog.”
