Page 84 of Meant for Mayhem

“Do you blame Leena for her mother walking out on her? Do you think it’s because she did something wrong?”

“God, no.”

“Then the same can be true for you.”

Lori sighed, and I couldn’t help but mirror it.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my face, trying to find my balance after this conversation. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up.”

“Yes, you should have,” Lori said. “Anytime you think you might not be worth it, you call me. I’m happy to tell you how wonderful you are until I’m blue in the face. Understood?”

She had that teacher voice I’d heard so many times, the one that said sit down and listen.

“Okay.”

“Now. You go home and love on that little girl like I taught you how. Spoil her absolutely rotten with affection.”

I grinned. “That I can do.”

“Good. And if Mikko spoils you rotten with affection too, don’t chase him off.”

“There’s nothing to chase off.”

She hummed. “You keep believing that. I’ll keep seeing what I want to see.”

That made me shake my head, but already I felt lighter.

“I love you, Lori. I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it before, but I do.”

“I know.”

We stayed on the phone for another few minutes, talking about nothing in particular. Hockey. Thanksgiving plans. Bets on whether Beckett could make a turkey without setting off the smoke detector.

Safe things. The kinds of conversations we always had.

Now, I realized she was letting me do this—to stay on the surface where I was comfortable. We never went too deep, but still, she stayed with me as long as I needed her.

When we finally hung up, I didn’t start the car. Instead, I sat there staring at the assisted living building where Walt was probably settling in for another evening alone. Walking into his apartment this morning hadn’t reminded me of Lori’s Parkinson’s diagnosis, but it made it impossible to ignore how terrified I was of losing her.

Time didn’t stop.

The disease didn’t stop.

It didn’t care how good a person you were or how badly you wanted more time. No, Parkinson’s was a thief, locking you in a body you could no longer control, until it stole every piece of you before the end.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

Maybe that’s why I love you had slipped out before I could stop it. Not because I was comfortable with vulnerability—I wasn’t. People couldn’t steal pieces of your heart if you never told them they owned it.

But sometimes there were good people.

People who deserved more.

People like Lori and Stevie and Emmy and Tate and Daisy that I kept at arm’s length solely because I was too afraid to admit how deeply I cared.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I wiped it away.

The ugly truth of it was, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself I was fine on my own, I’d never actually stopped needing anyone.