Chapter 1
Chapter One
WHITNEY
Istare down at the bottle of pills I have clutched in my hand, and when I let them flicker to the picture of Brinley on the dash, my eyes begin to burn for what must be the fourth or fifth time today.
It’s a picture of her the day after she turned six months old.
It was the first time she sat up on her own, and she was wearing the best kind of gummy smile on her face.
My heart squeezes at the sight, remembering how excited I was to catch the moment on camera.
How is time such a thief? How did she get so big, so fast?
It’s like you blink and all time does is slip between your fingers like water.
I would have done anything to get through those first few newborn nights, but God, it hurts to know she’s growing up.
It hurts to know that I wasn’t all there the first few months and missed out on some of the best days of my life.
That I let myself become a shell of who I used to be.
That, in some ways, I still am a shell of the woman I was.
It’s the very reason I’d gone to the clinic today.
Postpartum hit me harder than I could have ever imagined. It doesn’t matter how many people warned me to prepare for this or for that–I quickly learned that you can’t possibly be fully prepared for something you’ve never experienced.
There were days when I couldn’t even pull myself out of bed.
Days when I’d cry and beg for her to calm down.
When I’d get frustrated and scream and then wallow in guilt and shame at the tears I had caused.
When I’d look in the mirror and not recognize the woman staring back at me.
Messy hair, puke-covered T-shirt, and eye bags so dark they seemed never-ending.
I was in denial for months, because I grew up in a family that taught me mental health is not something you run to pills for.
But Brinley deserves a mom who’s present.
Who wants to wake up energized and ready to play with her.
Who’s excited to start the day, and one who doesn’t break down at the slightest inconvenience.
She doesn’t deserve a mom like the one I have.
A knock on my window causes me to jump, and I quickly wipe the tears that have gathered under my eyes as I shove the pills into my purse. “You, okay?” My little sister asks as I step out of my car. “Fine.” I give her a small smile in return. “How was she?”
“Good. She’s down for a nap now.”
“You got her to nap?” I groan, tipping my head back. “Thank god.” She hums, giving me a conspirator’s grin. “Had to bribe her with a bag of chocolates, but it worked.”
“Vivienne, I swear to –” She throws her head back and laughs, cutting me off and throwing an arm over my shoulders. “Kidding! I’m just kidding. She had a big lunch and lots of playtime to tire her out.”
Relief deflates my chest as I lean into her side. “Thank you again for watching her.”
“Always.” She smiles so broadly that it makes my heart skip. Sometimes she looks so much like our mother. “Your appointment went okay, then?”
“Yup. Everything is fine.” I give her a tight-lipped smile, hoping she buys it.
“Fine is good.” She nods. “Fine is great.” Stepping in front of me, she crosses one arm over the other. “Not fine is cool too, though.”
“I’m okay. Seriously.” Lie, lie, lie. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“How was your first day at the vet clinic?” My attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction works.
She prattles on about yesterday’s shift as we make our way to her front door.
Our conversation is so casual that I swear it makes my heart grow a few sizes.
I’ve dreamed of days like this, where she and I could be sisters.
Some days, it feels like we still walk on eggshells, but we’re trying.
We both are. She’s been a huge help with Brinley, and even though she denies it, I know she left New York for us.
We walk inside, and I smile at the toys littering her living room floor.
The one-bedroom apartment isn't big by any means, but it’s perfect for Vivienne.
This apartment complex was built just last year and is only a few minutes’ walk into town.
It’s convenient having her so close, and even more convenient that my place is just above Bell’s.
On days when I struggle to find a sitter for Brinley, I let her stay in the shop with me.
Adding in a play area has been a big help, and having a monitor that reaches upstairs while she naps is heaven-sent.
I know that the system we have now won’t last much longer.
The older she gets, the more attention she’ll need.
I’ll probably have to hire someone else soon and step back until I can figure out a more permanent solution.
I sag onto the green couch at the same time a wail pierces the air.
My head lulls back and I breathe deeply.
“I swear she has better hearing than a full-grown bat.”
“That might be true.” My sister teases as she reaches behind me to grab something from the sofa table.
Brinley’s cries have transitioned into yapping, and I know it’s just one of her typical tactics to get someone to peek in.
I’ve made that mistake more than once. “Do you have your phone?” Vivienne asks.
“I have the cutest photos of her I want to airdrop to you.”
“It’s dead.” I mutter, rubbing my eyes. “I’m the worst about plugging it in.”
“I swear, Whitney it’s always–” She stops abruptly, eyes catching on something on her phone. Her face goes ghostly pale as she stares down at the screen. “Oh, my god.”
Goosebumps rack my body, and I shoot up into a sitting position. “What? What is it?”
Vivienne ignores me, throwing her phone.
It lands somewhere on the floor with a concerning crack.
She rushes to turn the TV on, where a woman from our local news station is reporting.
Smoke, both black and white, fills the chaos around her.
Firefighters and police are seen sprinting in every direction.
Townspeople are pointing and yelling in the background.
But it’s my knees that give out as the camera zooms in on the destruction behind her.