“But . . . that’s not happening anymore. You already knew that.”
She hit me with a pointed look that made me sink down into the couch. “Well, I think that would be a mistake.”
And there it was. She hadn’t said anything earlier because she was waiting for just the right time when she could catch me off guard and lay one of her wise, all-knowing, Caroline the Magnificent life lessons on me. And she’d timed it perfectly.
“Do your old aunt a favor, kiddo,” she said to Brantley. “Go pack a bag for my house. Uncle Scoot got the stuff for us to roast marshmallows so we can make s’mores. We’re gonna stay up really late watching movies and eat tons and tons of sugar.”
“Yeah!” he shouted, fist-bumping the air before taking off down the hallway. A crash sounded a second later, quickly followed by, “I’m okay!”
I shoved my spoon into the melty goop and put the container on the coffee table. “What do you mean you think that’s a mistake?”
Caroline moved to the couch and took a seat on the opposite end. “I think it would be a mistake for you not to go over there and work this out with that man.”
I let out an affronted harrumph. “Did you not hear a word I said earlier?”
“Oh, I heard everything loud and clear,” she fired back. “And since you’re in the thick of it, you don’t see the irony of the situation, so I’ll spell it out for you. You spent your entire life not trusting because the people you loved, the people who were supposed to love and protect you left. He spent his entire life not trusting anyone because the people who were supposed to love and protect him took that love and twisted it into somethin’ ugly and wrong.
“Both of you got the short end of the stick when it came to parents. True, the circumstances were very different, but the outcome was very much the same: neither of you trusted anyone.”
“That’s not true,” I objected, but even to my own ears it sounded weak, because she wasn’t totally wrong.
“Okay, I’ll amend that by sayin’ neither of you trusted completely. Did you ever stop to wonder why your relationship was so intense? Why the two of you consumed each other in a way no one your age should even understand, let alone experience? Your relationship was different than anyone else’s from the very beginning. You two held on to each other so tight, half the time I didn’t know where you started and he began. Did you ever ask yourself why that was?”
“I—That’s not—”
“It’s because both of you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.” She reached across the empty space between us and took my hand. “You loved each other, honey pie, there’s no doubt about it. You loved each other with every single breath. But you both held on so tight because you were scared the other person would slip through your fingers like sand.”
My lips parted on an exhale so big all the air expelled from my lungs as the realization that everything she was saying, every single word, was chock-full of truth.
“You’ve been like that with everyone you let in. Used to worry me to death because I was scared it would break you. When you’re loyal, that loyalty is unwavering because you don’t want to risk ever givin’ that person a reason to leave, and it’s the same when it comes to asking for help. What you never understood was that’s what real families do, blood or not. When one person is down, it’s the job of the rest of us to lift them up. There’s no quota when it comes to needing people.
“Both of you went into that relationship with your eyes wide open, but you were still blind. The expectation that there would one day be a hurdle you’d stumble over was cemented into the foundation of what you’d built from the start because it was all either of you had known.”
She leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Open your eyes, child. That love you two felt for each other, it never went away, not even for a second. The foundation of a relationship is the same as the foundation of a house. If you’re able to find the problem, you can work to fix it. You can build it back to be even stronger than it was before.”
A tear broke free and made a slow track down my cheek. “I—I think . . .”
“What, sweetie? What do you think?”
“I think I need to change,” I spit out frantically, shooting up from the couch and looking down at my sweats that were now sporting ice cream stains. “I can’t go see him like this!”
“Well then, I suggest you get a move on.”
I raced out of the living room so fast my feet slipped on the floors and I nearly pulled a Brantley and collided into the wall. My shirt was halfway over my head by the time I cleared the threshold to my bedroom. I whipped off my raggedy sweatpants and bolted for the closet.
“Momma! I can’t find my Captain America mask!” Brantley yelled as I jerked a pair of jeans off the hanger. “You look under your bed?” I shouted back while hopping on one foot then the other as I worked to get them up my legs.
“Yeah!”
“Closet?” I listened as he ran back down the hall, slipping on his socked feet and crashing into the wall.
“I’m okay!” I heard him shuffle back up, and seconds later, the closet door slammed shut. It was the same thing every day. An item of his went missing and I was the only one in the house who could find it. “Not there!”
With my pants in place, I ran to my dresser and ripped the top drawer open, searching for the tank top I considered my lucky shirt. Basically, it was just tight and lowcut enough to make my male customers feel a little more generous with their tips, and I was hoping that tonight it would work on softening Jensen so he’d forgive my stupidity. “What about the toy basket in the living room?”
More running, more sliding, and another crash. How my boy had gone this long in his life without a concussion was beyond me. “Found it!”
“Swear to God, both of you are gonna scream the roof right down one of these days,” Caroline called back.
“I’m ready!” my son called out. “Bye, Momma! Love you!” My boy was so excited to go he wasn’t even going to give me a kiss. I couldn’t let that slide. I came skidding out of my bedroom at the same time Brantley came out of his. My boy let out a huff and tugged his little Avengers rolling suitcase after him. The thing was stuffed so full it wouldn’t zip all the way.
“Good Lord, kid. Did you pack everything you own? You realize you aren’t moving in with Aunt Caro and Uncle Scoot, right?”
“I couldn’t choose which stuffy to bring, so I just got them all,” he answered seriously. I loved that he still called his stuffed animals stuffies, and I was dreading the day he was too old to use the word he’d made up.
“Did you remember your toothbrush?” The look on his face told me he didn’t. “Did you at least pack a change of clothes and some underwear?” That was a no as well.
“I got my jammies,” he said proudly, like that trumped clothes, underwear, and toothbrush.
I arched a brow and gave him the Mom look. “Less stuffies, more of the stuff you actually need.” He turned around and slunk back into his room like a pirate walking the plank.
A few minutes later—with the correct stuff in his bag—I picked him up and gave him a big squeeze and a loud smacking kiss, then he and Caroline took off, and I ran back to my room to put on the finishing touches.