Chapter 33 Lia
Lia
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Amber’s small hands twist in the blanket in her lap while she stares down the cartoon paused on the television in front of us. Ariel is frozen mid-song, bright and cheerful in a way that feels painfully out of place in this quiet little room.
Pickles lifts his head from her lap, sensing the shift.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Look at me.”
Amber doesn’t listen. She speaks, however, and her voice is barely louder than a whisper. “Because Dad says she died when I was born. I feel like that would make her mad, if she were here.”
My chest tightens.
I move before I even think about it, scooting closer to her on the bed. Pickles moves, shifting to Amber’s feet and laying across her legs so I can pull her gently into my arms. She comes willingly, curling against me with the same instinctive trust she’s always seemed to show me.
Just a little girl looking for her mother everywhere she can.
Her little fingers clutch the front of my shirt as I hold her tightly. “No, sweet pea. Not in a million years, okay? Your mother could never be mad at you for being born.”
Amber sniffles against my shoulder. “But she died.”
My hand moves slowly up and down her back. “Yes. She did. But death isn’t an angry thing.”
“It feels angry to me,” she mumbles.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Anger does not equate to fault.”
Amber shifts a little so she can look up at me. Her eyes are shiny with tears and her cheeks are flushed. “But if I wasn’t born—”
I cup her cheek before she can finish the thought. “Then the world would be without your light. You think your mother would have wanted that? For the world to be robbed of you?”
Her lower lip trembles. “Do you think Daddy is angry with me?
I can’t help the tears that line my own eyes. I remember when I was this lost in my ARS. Bouncing between anger and grief and not knowing where to settle. I remember the days where I laid there, wondering if this was somehow brought onto me because of some sort of mismanaged karma.
“No,” I manage to choke out. “Not even a little bit. You think your father would trade you for anything in this world?”
She sniffles softly. “No.”
“Exactly.” I brush a stray piece of hair away from her forehead. “Your mom carried you for months. She felt you kick. She heard your heartbeat. She probably talked to you and dreamed about you and imagined what your life would be like when you grew up.”
Amber’s grip tightens on my shirt.
“And when you were born,” I say quietly, “I promise you the very last thing she would have felt was anger.”
Amber sniffles again. “What would she feel?”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Pride. Love. Probably the biggest love anyone can feel. I bet she heard your cry for the very first time and felt relief that you were alive and breathing.”
She goes very still against me. “But she died.”
“Yes,” I say softly again. “She did. And that’s really sad.
It’s okay to feel sad about that. But don’t ever think for one second that she would have regretted having you just because of what happened to her.
Parents all around the world, every day, make decisions that cost them their lives for the sake of their children.
It’s what parents do, and they do it out of love. Not out of anger.”
Pickles nudges her arm gently with his nose, as if to comfort her in his own way. She reaches over, absentmindedly petting him between his ears.
Pickles’ eyes fall closed at the scratches.
“You know what?” I ask.
“What?” Amber asks as she nuzzles her head against my shoulder.
“Bodies do amazing things to bring new life into this world, but sometimes those things are really hard, too. Like you, I presented early.”
That makes her look up at me. “You did?”
I nod. “Yeah. Earlier than I was supposed to. I was about eleven when it first came around.”
“What happened?”
I shift a little so we’re both more comfortable against the pillows.
“I got sick. Felt off. Got really frustrated with the smallest things. I’d wake up in night sweats with wetness beneath me on the bed and thought maybe I peed myself or something.
It made me feel like a big baby until the doctor told me what was going on. ”
Her eyes grow brighter. “That’s what happened to me, too. I was so worried about telling Daddy I peed the bed. I’m a big girl. We don’t pee the bed.”
I smile down at her softly and stroke my fingers through her hair.
“When Omegas present early, our instincts wake up before we’re ready.
That’s why everything feels confusing. Your body is telling you one thing but your brain is telling you another, and you don’t always know what’s happening or why.
It can be scary sometimes, and that’s okay, too. ”
“Were you scared?”
I give her a small laugh. “Oh, yeah. Terrified. And I stunk.”
Amber groans. “Ugh, I hate the stink.”
“But none of that was my fault,” I continue softly. “It wasn’t my fault that I presented early. It wasn’t my fault that I stunk. And just like those weren’t my fault, what happened to your mother was not your fault.”
Amber’s head drops back to my shoulder. “I think about her a lot.”
“Yeah?” I ask as I thread my arm around her. She nods as she snuggles closer. “Do you and your dad ever talk about her?”
She shrugs. “I don’t wanna make him sad, so I don’t say anything.”
My heart squeezes. “So you keep all of this to yourself? That’s not very good.”
She’s silent for a few seconds. “I think about her when I’m trying to sleep. Or when people talk about their moms at school.”
Her voice cracks a little on that last word, and it kills me a little inside.
Amber wipes at her face. “I don’t wanna ask Dad questions because it might hurt his feelings.”
I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the rest of the tear trail she didn’t get on her own.
“You want to know something?” I ask.
“What?”
“Your dad loves you more than anything in the world.”
Amber nods immediately. “I know.”
“And sometimes,” I continue gently, “when people love each other that much, they both try to protect each other from sad things.”
Her brow furrows.
“Think about it,” I say as Pickles inches his face closer to Amber’s hand. “You don’t want to talk to your dad about it because you’re worried it might make him sad. Did you ever think he feels the same way? That he doesn’t want to bring things up with you too much because it might make you sad?”
Amber’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”
“See how that can happen?”
She leans back a little so she can look at me properly. “I never thought about it like that.”
I smile softly. “It happens a lot, especially with people who love one another.”
Amber picks at the sleeve of my shirt for a moment. “What should I do?”
I gently cup her cheek again. “Tell him how you’re feeling, sweet pea. Tell him that you want to know about your mother. That you want the stories and the memories he has of her, even if it hurts.”
“You don’t think it’ll make him mad?”
“Not one bit.”
Amber looks uncertain. “What if it makes him cry?”
“Then he cries, and that’s okay. Just like you’re crying now,” I say as I reach out and catch another tear with my thumb. “And it’s okay. Maybe he needs to talk to you about her as much as you need to hear about her.”
After a quiet moment, Amber wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her pajama top.
“I’ll try,” she whispers.
I smile and pull her into a side hug. “I’m really proud of you, you know. It takes guts to talk about the hard things. You’re very strong. Very brave.”
She squeezes me back and I close my eyes, resting my cheek on top of her head. But the guest room door opening freezes both of us in the bed. There stands Eli, with Knox hovering behind him. Knox’s hand is on Eli’s shoulder, squeezing softly, and there’s a glassy look behind both of their eyes.
It doesn’t take a genius to know how long they’ve both been standing there.
“Your mother would be so proud of you, Amber,” Eli says.