Page 121 of Every Chance After

“Marina, that’s… I’m so sorry. You never should’ve been in that position.”

She shrugs. “I was okay in that position until then.”

“You were fifteen.”

“I was all she had,” she answers softly. “She was all I had.”

I squeeze her hands a little tighter, running my thumbs along hers.

She forces a smile. “The next day, I went to school, and peoplespoketo me. I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me, but it felt like a bridge, you know, to finally being in a place that might understand me, somewhere I might make friends. Everyone was so kind. They asked how I was and said I saved the performance. All I did was talk her down and take her home, but their appreciation and understanding felt nice. I didn’t feel alone anymore.”

She shifts in her chair, bringing it closer. “So, when I came home that day and found Mom loading the car with our stuff, I just… I fell apart, Grady.”

“So, it does happen?”

“Rarely,” she chuckles. “But yes. She wanted to move, to wipe the slate clean for the next town. That’s what always happened. She’d go through a bad breakup or job situation, and we’d leave just as I started feeling comfortable. I hated it.” She leans back.

“What happened?”

“I told her I wasn’t going. She could stay with me and get better or leave and fend for herself. She threatened to take me anyway. I was fifteen, after all, and didn’t have a say. I told her if she tried to force me, I’d tell social services about her myself. Her illness mortified her, one reason she struggled to manage it. I said I’d be better off without her. She agreed, so she left.”

I nod, knowing it must’ve been difficult to say. Hard to hear, too. My biggest concerns at fifteen were having time for video games and making the varsity team in baseball. She had to survive—I can’t imagine her life.

“Didn’t people know you were alone?”

She shrugs lightly. “AfterThe Sound of Music, I think people understood. Mr. Pike, Peter’s grandfather, knew. He looked after me and probably assuaged any worries about me from the community. I had a job, good grades, and never made trouble—I kept my head down, paid the bills, and never gave anyone a reason to be concerned. If someone asked about her, I’d say she was on a trip or visiting relatives. I finally started saying that she’d become an airline attendant. It didn’t take long for people to stop asking.”

“What about your mom? She’s never reached out or returned?”

She scoffs. “No. She’s sent cards over the years, always from a different place. Mel must talk to her. She sent a card for the wedding.”

“What’d it say?”

“I didn’t open it. I haven’t opened any of them.”

“Why not?”

“I suppose it’s wrong not to. I spent the first year expecting she’d see it my way and come back full of love and apologies. That didn’t happen. Holidays, birthdays, nothing. So, when the first card came about two years later, I put it in a box, too angry to read it. I’ve done the same with the rest.”

“Even though theymightbe filled with love and apologies?”

“After two years of silence, it was my one act of teenage rebellion. I’m not angry anymore, but then, it felt too late. I liked my peaceful, drama-free existence. It suited me. Then, there was me and Ashe, and I feared she’d show up like a tornado, spinning out of control and ruin it.” She laughs weakly. “The irony, huh?”

She takes a breath, forcing a smile. “So, that’s me, Grady. The world’s biggest hypocrite.”

“Hypocrite? How?”

“For wanting to belong to a family but turning mine away,” she says.

“She left you no choice. She should’ve fought harder for you. This isn’t your fault.”

“Eh, she once told me that having a Valentine’s birthday meant I was cursed to be alone. She was right.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

Her hands tighten on mine. “Shelefton Valentine’s Day. You can’t tell me there’s nothing to it.”

“It’s a shitty coincidence. Bad things have happened, yes. But you deserve all the love in the world, and you’ll have it because you’re not alone anymore. So, please, tell me you aren’t buying that bullshit.”

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