Chapter 17 #3
The nice thing about talking this through with Lori was that she didn’t need me to explain—she’d been there.
After Mom walked out on us. After Dad went to prison. After two teenage boys found themselves responsible for raising a little sister neither of them wanted.
Watching Ty fight so hard for Junie these last few months made me realize how impossible that should’ve been. The system had looked at my brothers and Nana, shrugged, and decided good enough.
And dammit, it wasn’t.
Nana wanted nothing to do with us, even before Dad was gone. So when he left, it was the three of us kids in the trailer next door together.
There were plenty of nights the house was empty when Cash and Colton forgot to come home.
Plenty of mornings I’d gone to school pretending I wasn’t hungry because we didn’t have food in the house.
Plenty of afternoons sitting on the front steps waiting for someone who never remembered they were supposed to pick me up.
But even on my worst days, Lori was always there.
She never made a big deal of it. She just started keeping extra snacks in her classroom. Found reasons for me to stay after school until she knew one of my brothers was home. Picked me up in the summer because I was on her way to the library.
She never pitied me.
Never treated me differently.
But most importantly, she never made me feel like I was a burden.
“I should’ve said thank you a long time ago,” I whispered.
“For what?” she asked softly, but I knew she understood.
“You made sure I never fell through the cracks.”
Another quiet pause settled between us. “I did nothing special, sweetheart. All I did was love you.”
I teared up again, because that was such a Lori thing to say too. She’d never understand that what felt ordinary to her had completely changed the trajectory of my life.
“But you shouldn’t, Lori.” My throat closed, barely choking back my emotions. “How do you look at me and not think that I’m the reason you’re a widow?”
“Because your dad was driving the car that killed my husband, not you. You did nothing wrong, except be born into a family that didn’t deserve you.”
She said it so simply, as if no further explanation was needed. But these thoughts had haunted me for decades, making me feel like I’d never outrun the damage my family had caused.
“Do you blame Leena for her mother walking out on her? Do you think it’s because she did something wrong?”
“God, no.”
“Then the same can be true for you.”
Lori sighed, and I couldn’t help but mirror it.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped my face, trying to find my balance after this conversation. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up.”
“Yes, you should have,” Lori said. “Anytime you think you might not be worth it, you call me. I’m happy to tell you how wonderful you are until I’m blue in the face. Understood?”
She had that teacher voice I’d heard so many times, the one that said sit down and listen.
“Okay.”
“Now. You go home and love on that little girl like I taught you how. Spoil her absolutely rotten with affection.”
I grinned. “That I can do.”
“Good. And if Mikko spoils you rotten with affection too, don’t chase him off.”
“There’s nothing to chase off.”
She hummed. “You keep believing that. I’ll keep seeing what I want to see.”
That made me shake my head, but already I felt lighter.
“I love you, Lori. I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it before, but I do.”
“I know.”
We stayed on the phone for another few minutes, talking about nothing in particular. Hockey. Thanksgiving plans. Bets on whether Beckett could make a turkey without setting off the smoke detector.
Safe things. The kinds of conversations we always had.
Now, I realized she was letting me do this—to stay on the surface where I was comfortable. We never went too deep, but still, she stayed with me as long as I needed her.
When we finally hung up, I didn’t start the car.
Instead, I sat there staring at the assisted living building where Walt was probably settling in for another evening alone.
Walking into his apartment this morning hadn’t reminded me of Lori’s Parkinson’s diagnosis, but it made it impossible to ignore how terrified I was of losing her.
Time didn’t stop.
The disease didn’t stop.
It didn’t care how good a person you were or how badly you wanted more time. No, Parkinson’s was a thief, locking you in a body you could no longer control, until it stole every piece of you before the end.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
Maybe that’s why I love you had slipped out before I could stop it. Not because I was comfortable with vulnerability—I wasn’t. People couldn’t steal pieces of your heart if you never told them they owned it.
But sometimes there were good people.
People who deserved more.
People like Lori and Stevie and Emmy and Tate and Daisy that I kept at arm’s length solely because I was too afraid to admit how deeply I cared.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I wiped it away.
The ugly truth of it was, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself I was fine on my own, I’d never actually stopped needing anyone.
I’d just stopped saying it out loud.