I shake my head against her shoulder.
"Are you and Nate okay?"
The nod comes automatically.
"What's on your mind?"
"How do you do it?" The question slips out before I can catch it, small and uncertain.
Her hand stills. "How do I do what?"
"Everything." The word feels inadequate. "How do you hold everyone else together without falling apart yourself?"
She presses a kiss to my crown, and I feel her smile. "You mean, where do I find the strength to keep going?"
When I nod, she's quiet for a moment, thoughtful in that way that always preceded her best advice. "Do you rememberA Wrinkle in Time?"
"Of course." The memory rises like warmth in my chest. "It's one of my favorites."
"Why is it one of your favorites?"
"Because Dad…" My voice catches. "Because Dad used to read it to me every night. He loved it too."
Her smile reaches her eyes now, soft with memory. "Did you know your grandmother used to read it to him when he was little?"
The revelation hits me like a gentle wave, washing away some of the night's heaviness. This simple thread of story and love, weaving through generations of our family, feels like a gift I never knew I had.
She continues, her voice taking on that storyteller quality I remember from childhood. "Remember when Charles Wallace was possessed by IT? What did Meg have that IT didn't?"
"Love," I whisper.
"That's right. Love saved him—fierce, unconditional love. That's what restores order in chaos." Her arms tighten around me. "Your father's love, my love for you and Ollie, it's what keeps me going. When I look at you both, I see him. He lives in the way you twist your lips when you're thinking, in how Ollie laughs with his whole body. Love doesn't end, it transforms."
The tears come without warning, hot and urgent. She holds me closer, and I let myself break a little, knowing she'll help me put myself back together.
"You have to love fiercely," she murmurs, her hand tracing circles on my back. "Love with intention, even when—especially when—it would be easier to close yourself off. That's when your heart needs to stay open the most."
Looking up at her through blurred vision, I see the strength that's carried us through everything—every scraped knee, every broken heart, every impossible goodbye.
"Mom? Can I sleep here tonight?"
Her smile is warm enough to chase away the last shadows of doubt. "Of course, honey."
I settle against her, letting the steady drum of her heartbeat become my lullaby. Mom's right. The trick isn't to avoid the pain; it's to keep your heart open wide enough to let the light back in.
CHAPTER65
A FLICKER OF HOPE
NATE
"Go check on her,"Nora says softly, her voice steady and sure, as if she's already traced the path of my inner conflict.
I hesitate, torn between following her upstairs and checking on Mom. The weight of responsibility pulls me in opposite directions, threatening to split me in two. Nora steps closer, her hand rising to cradle my cheek. Her thumb traces my skin with butterfly-light pressure.
"It's okay," she whispers, leaning in to press her lips to mine. The kiss is soft, meaningful—a promise wrapped in warmth. Her hand lingers, heat seeping into my skin, and for a precious moment, I let myself believe in the possibility of okay.
"I'll be fine," she murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "She needs you."