My heart felt like it was cracking.
“I’m just fine,” I said.
And it would’ve been a convincing answer, had I not started tearing up.
Chapter Twenty
“My worst quality? Uh... probably communicating, I guess. It’s hard to get the words out, unless I put them in a song. Life’s easier when I’m singing.”
—Jake Moody onRobin’s Radio
Itold Mom everything. How worried I was we’d lose the café. Why I wrote Jake. How I didn’t know if we’d make it to fall if my US plan didn’t work and how I just wanted to be there to ease her worries while she was hurt, not add to them.
I’m sorry, I found myself repeating.I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“Oh, honey,” Mom exclaimed, pulling me into a hug after I finished spilling my heart out. “None of this is on you. Absolutely none of it.”
“But—”
“No, no buts. Summer attendance is always low—you’ve seen that every summer of your life. Espresso Inc would’veopened even if I’d been there and never hurt my leg,” Mom said firmly. “You being in charge of the café didn’t cause any problems. You’ve always been so sensible and focused, sometimes I forget you’re still a teenager.” Mom smiled fondly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what you were going through, Lucy. I’m going to be asking you more questions from now on about how you’re dealing with things, even when you say you’re fine. And I’m sorry for not telling you about the medical bills. No secrets from now on, okay?”
“Okay,” I promised. It felt like a relief—there had never been so many miscommunications between us before.
“And I need you to know you’re doing amazing,” Mom continued.
I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling to stop more tears from coming out. Yeah, right. We were in danger of losing the café, but I was doing amazing. “Sure.”
“Youare,” Mom said, in that firm way of hers that left no room open for argument. “You’ve kept the doors open. You’ve kept the cats safe. I mean, hey, you got together a livestream with one of the biggest bands out there, Lucy. That’s incredible, and you need to give yourself credit, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m going to keep reminding you of how awesome you are,but,” she continued, “we’re also going to discuss why you didn’t tell me you felt so sick this morning. I’d never have asked you to open the café if I’d known.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I protested. My unrepentant gaze met my mother’s unimpressed one. “Mom, I know how important the café is to you. I didn’t want to let you down. I had to be there for you.”
It was more than just Mom, though. I wanted to pull through for the cats. So many were left behind by people who were supposed to be there for them. They got the cats as kittens when they were tiny and cute, and then got tired of them when they got older. Or dumped them when they realized they took too much work or too much time. Sure, they liked them, but they didn’tlovethem. Not enough to stick around.
“That’s why I’m thinking about not going to college either,” I blurted out.
No more secrets, right?
Mom’s eyes widened, her hold on my hand going slack. “What?”
“Please don’t be mad,” I begged.
“No, honey, I’m not mad,” she promised. “Just confused. You’ve been a study machine for years to get a good scholarship. You even entered that state spelling bee four years ago because you said winning might look good on an application! You were so determined to not have a single flaw they could use to deny you. Did you change your mind about becoming a vet?”
“No, I still want to,” I answered instinctively, the confession slipping out faster than I anticipated. “I’m just scared that finally taking the next step toward it will mean...”
“Mean what?”
“Abandoning everything else in my life that matters,” I confessed. “I was so excited when I first received the scholarship, but then you got hurt, and the café started falling apart, and it made me reconsider everything. You won’t even be healed by the time I’m supposed to go. What’ll happen if foot traffic never goes up and you can’t afford anyone to help you? Don’t I need to be here to keep the café open? The Tiny Tiger started as yourdream, but it’s also my home. If I desert it and you now, what kind of person does that make me?” I took a deep, shaky breath. “I want to become a vet and have the power to do good, but is it worth anything if I can’t even help my own family? I want to be here for who and what I love,” I told her. “I don’t want to be like my father, who left you when things got hard.”
“Oh no. No, no, no,” Mom said, shaking her head. “You’re not like him. It’s just not in you. He walked out because he didn’t evenwantto try—he left the first moment things got tough. You’re entirely the opposite.” She smiled at me, not sad but admiring. “What happened with him is nothing like you leaving for college.”
“But what if it’s different circumstances, same result?” I asked, another worry that’d been lurking beneath the surface this whole time finally rearing its ugly head.
Did distance really make the heart grow fonder?
