Chapter 24 Grandpa Kinks Emmett #3
“Hey.” Emily catches my gaze, holding it.
“Choosing to go after something you want and putting all of yourself into it, even when you’re not getting the results you want…
there isn’t a word in existence to describe exactly how difficult that is.
You are brave and strong for trying. You are brave and strong for recognizing when you need to take a break.
And if one day you decide to walk away, you’ll be brave and strong then too.
You spend all your time being brave and strong, even when you don’t want to be, and certainly shouldn’t need to be.
I admire you, Cara. I hope one day you are able to look back on this time in your life and admire yourself too. ”
I blink away my tears, the anger at myself melting away. “Oh my God,” I mutter, realizing where we’d wound up in no time at all. “How did you do that? We were talking about fostering, and then…” I shake my head. “You wanna be my psychologist? I could use one.”
She laughs, quiet and tired. “You know, I always wonder who I would be if I’d had the help I needed when I was a kid. I didn’t, though. Didn’t get it ’til I was in college.” She rubs her temple. “Sometimes I have trouble convincing myself it wasn’t too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
“Late is always better than never. But it’s easier to dig yourself out of a hole you don’t want to be in when you’ve spent less time there. I might be different if I’d only sat by myself in that hole for a couple years, not twelve.”
“You’re a beautiful person, Emily. Exactly as you are now.”
Though her smile is genuine and soft, there’s a haunted look in her deep blue eyes.
“I like myself. And I think my inner child is proud of me. But I’ll always wish for more for the little girl who needed it.
” Emily clears her throat, blinking until her gaze clears.
“Anyway, that’s why I work with kids. I want them to have the best shot at life, and this is where I can make the most impact.
Especially with Second Chance. It’s such an incredible place, so wonderfully staffed and supported, but one of the last group homes still standing. ”
I nod, thinking back on our foster training, the focus on stable, family-like environments. “And yet Second Chance is almost always at capacity.”
“There’s a severe shortage of foster homes, and I think that’s why Second Chance will always be a staple in our community. They’re lucky to have so much support from the Vipers.”
My gaze falls to Abel, and I stroke his pink cheek. “How’s he doing?” I ask before I can stop myself. “In a group setting?”
“He would benefit greatly from a typical family dynamic. Even when he was living at home with his family, he didn’t really have that.
We did have hope that the group setting might be beneficial in the sense that he’d get more interaction, socialization with peers…
but, ultimately, he needs stability, the sense of belonging that comes with a family environment.
He needs a community that welcomes him with open arms.” She swings a smile my way, her tone lightening. “We all do, though, don’t we?”
“What’s that saying? It takes a village?”
“A whole-ass village,” she confirms. “Do you mind if I overstep for a second?”
“I love overstepping.”
“I’m going to send you my friend’s info. She’s a therapist who specializes in PTSD associated with infertility.”
“PTSD? But—”
“Yes, PTSD. It’s not just for veterans, and we really need to shift that stigma, because PTSD is so wonderfully inclusive of all.
” She taps away on her phone, and I feel mine vibrate in my back pocket before she tucks hers away, giving me her full attention.
I’m not sure I want it, not based on how she seems to see right through me.
“My mom remarried when I was eight. She and my stepdad tried for four years to have a baby.”
“Secondary infertility?”
She nods. “She couldn’t understand why she’d been able to get pregnant with me without issue but couldn’t get a single positive pregnancy test this time.
The fourth year, she had three positives.
Three pregnancies; two from IUIs, one from an embryo transfer.
She miscarried the first two early in the first trimester.
The third she lost at sixteen weeks. They told her that her uterus wasn’t a suitable home for a baby. ”
Fuck. “Why do they always have to word things like that?”
“I don’t know. But my mom fixated on those words.
Let them define who she was, dictate her worth.
Her uterus wasn’t suitable, or worthy, so neither was she.
” Emily glances at the ceiling, pulling in a deep breath.
It doesn’t stop the two tears that slide down her cheeks.
“Please, Cara, take care of yourself. Give yourself grace. Look this fight right in its face and tell it, with everything you are, that you aren’t going to let it win.
That you’re willing to bend, but under no circumstances are you willing to break.
Tell it to fuck right off. You hear me?”
It’s weird, because I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Tried, even. And I’m not sure if it’s Emily’s story, her ferocity, or the little boy curled up and dozing soundlessly in my lap. Maybe both.
All I know is when I leave two hours later, after Abel wakes up, it’s with a determination I haven’t known in so long, it feels foreign.
And still, even later, when I’m standing in front of my bathroom mirror before bed, naked and with the latest of Emmett’s messages scrawled on the glass, I mean every word that I give myself.
“I’m going to love you, even on our hardest days.”
And I feel my body warm from the inside out, like my heart is smiling.