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Clearing my throat, I drop the scoop into the bowl and rest my hands on the counter. “She was in an accident when I was eight.”
“So you didn’t know she was going to die.” She says the words slowly, sadness dripping off each one. “I bet that’s better.”
Her words hit me like a punch, that familiar feeling of loss stinging my chest. I wish I didn’t know how Willow feels, but I was even younger than her when my mother passed away. A loss as great as this isn’t easily forgotten.
I don’t know what to say to that, because she’s probably right. It probably is easier to lose your mother all at once than to lose her in stages. My mom died instantly; she didn’t have to suffer. I didn’t have to watch her grow weaker every day or try to manage her pain with a concoction of pills. Our last months together weren’t tainted with that understanding.
Willow must be thinking the same. Every thought, every big emotion, flashes across her pale and splotchy face. She’s locked up, shoulders tight, her tiny fist gripping hard on the big spoon she used to mix the dough.
“Hey, honey. You okay?”I say the words slowly, carefully. I shouldn’t have said anything. I did this to her by bringing up my mother.
Two sad little eyes raise to mine. I see her lips form a “No,” but it’s so quiet that I’m not even sure she said it out loud. But when she can’t stop her bottom lip from shaking, I know. This is more than sadness.
Whatever she’s feeling right now is bigger than our conversation. She’s spiraling and I’m not sure how I can bring her back to me. When the tears start silently rolling down her face, I feel the familiar prick in my own and move closer.
Instead of comfort, my closeness seems to make her more frantic. Her breaths become ragged before she’s full-on gasping for air. Hands shaking, I reach out to her petite shoulders, shouting out to Emily, even though she probably can’t hear me all the way upstairs in her bedroom.
Everything that happens next is a blur.
Chase is suddenly in front of me, grabbing onto my arms and asking me what happened. I’m almost as much of a mess as Willow and can barely stutter out an explanation.
But before I can answer, he’s scooping Willow up and hurrying out of the room.
