“Aspen…” My voice is rough with emotion.
Her face crumples and fresh tears fall down her cheeks. Her voice cracks on my name, her body sways slightly, and I close the distance between us, wrapping her in my arms before she can fall. She buries her face into my chest and fists my shirt in her hands.
“Sweetheart, what happened?”
After a beat, she steadies herself and speaks. “I called my mom.”
“C’mon, let’s sit,” I offer, but she shakes her head.
“I asked why she sent me them. I asked if she’s read them or if she had any idea she was feeling that way.”
“Okay…and what’d she say?”
She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on something on the wall. “She denied everything. Said she was just going through old things, cleaning up the room, when she found a bunch of her stuff. She was going to give them to me when I came home, but since I never did, she mailed them instead.”
“You don’t believe she didn’t read them?”
She shakes her head. “No, she sent them to me knowing what was inside them.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s punishing me.”
I place my hands on top of her shoulders, her eyes finally looking up at me. “Why? Why would you say that?”
“Because you don’t know my mother. Something changed the day Ari died. The mom I knew died along with her. When I didn’t come back home per her request, she sent them to me knowing they’d hurt me. She’s awful like that.”
A fresh wave of tears fall down her cheeks, but this time, she doesn’t wipe them away. I see the pain in each tear that slips down to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, pulling her to my chest. I don’t know what to say, or even if there is anything I can say, so I just hold her for as long as she needs it.
“As much as I hate her, I’m glad she sent them to me,” she says softly after a few moments pass.
“You are?”
She takes a step back and nods. “It gave me what I needed. It gave me answers. Knowing the truth is more painful, but at least I’m not left with what ifs.” She blinks, clearing her eyes. “I hate that she suffered. I hate that she didn’t tell me, and I hate that I didn’t know.”
“I know, baby.” I rub a hand up and down her air, feeling the goose bumps against my palm. “It can’t be easy to digest.”
I help her clean up, her mood shifting back and forth from bitterness to sadness. I know this can’t be easy for her, but I don’t push her to talk about it. I know her life’s just been shifted upside down.
“Thanks for helping me clean all that up,” she says softly as we lay on the couch.
“Of course,” I say soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her, just in case she needs to hear it.
She wraps an arm around my waist and nuzzles herself under the crook of my arm. “I know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ASPEN
Hearing my mom’s pathetic excuses over the phone make me want to vomit.
She’s managed to ruin half of my life, and I can’t stand the thought of giving her anymore to control. She’s a puppet master, manipulating people into thinking she’s one person, but in actuality is this horrible woman inside. Ari’s death wrecked her, as it did me, but instead of leaning on each other to heal, she’s just poured more hurt and added to the pain.
I feel content that I’ve officially told my mother off and let go of whatever relationship we had left. It wasn’t much, but she managed to place a hold on me that I finally released.
No more.
I only wish it mended the ache in my heart. The fact that Ariel let go of my hand on purpose is killing me instead, but I don’t want to go back to that girl—the girl who’s friends all give pity looks and bows their heads anytime I’m around. I dealt with enough of that during high school, and I don’t want to go back.
Morgan’s been absolutely incredible. He only mentions it if I bring it up and is sincere in listening to me. He watches me paint and it no longer makes me nervous. Rather, I find it soothing, comforting in the way he interprets the pieces.
Natalia and I watch movies together when Morgan has grading to do and works in his office. I see a lot of her in me—shutting down and building the walls up around her. It’s not an easy thing to process, but protecting your heart is the only control you feel you have.
“What’s your favorite subject?” I ask one night when we’re alone.
“Reading,” she responds immediately, not keeping eye contact.
“What’s your favorite book?”
“The Hunger Games.”
“Oh, I haven’t read that one yet.”
“It’s way better than the movies,” she adds.
“Aren’t they always?” I crack a smile.
She smiles back. “Yeah, usually.”
“What’s your favorite sport?” I ask, pushing for more excuses to get her to talk.
“Football.”
“Really?” My eyes light up. “Mine, too!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty hard to resist hunky men in tight pants.”
I burst out in laughter, but her face barely moves. “C’mon, that’s funny,” I press.
“You don’t have to do this.” She sighs, keeping her eyes glued to the TV.
“Do what?” I draw my brows together.
“Pretend to be nice to me.”
“Who says I’m pretending?”
“It’s a classic rookie move.”
“Excuse me?”
She finally turns toward me, a serious expression on her face. “My dad dated a lot. Not really girlfriends, but they’d come in and out for a while, always smiling at me and pretending to tolerate me for his sake. I knew it was all fake.”
She’s smarter than I realize.
“Well, I’m not faking, just so you know.”
She shrugs, moving her eyes back to the screen. “Doesn’t matter either way.”
“Why’s that?”
“You really think you and Uncle Morgan are going to be one of those long lasting types?”
I purse my lips, a crease forming on my forehead. She’s eleven but talks like she’s thirty. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
I release a small laugh. “I went through the same stage as you when I was younger.”
“What stage?”
“Pushing people away, not wanting to make friends with anyone, not wanting people to take pity on you, or think you’re fragile and weak. You build up these inner walls that prevent you from hurting any more than you already are. I get that. I really do, because I’ve been doing it for over six years. But you know what?” She faces me, her features soften, and her lips form into a frown.
“What?”
“It gets really lonely. And tiring. Always pushing people away.”
She studies my features for a moment before speaking. “So why did you?”
I shrug. “It’s all I knew how to do in order to deal with what I was going through. I didn’t have a support system until recently, and it was just how I dealt with the anger inside, but holding it in for so long becomes more a burden than a release.”
Her lashes lower and I know I’ve hit a sore spot.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping I haven’t upset her. “I just want to help.”
“It’s fine.”
“You can talk to me about it anytime you want. I lost my sister when I was just a little older than you, and so I know a thing or two about being angry.” I flash a small, sincere smile, and she flashes one back, the first time I’ve seen a genuine smile on her face.
Morgan and I spend every free moment we have together in between classes and work. I know he’s worried about me from the way he’s always asking if I’m doing all right. He’s concerned about my anxiety and one more thing putting me over the edge to have a complete panic attack or something. I can’t say I blame him, considering the circumstances, but if I keep myself busy enough, I don’t have time to think about it. I can process Ari’s notebooks on my own without dragging everyone else with me since the only one that needs to work through it is me.