Page 51 of Into the Shadows

“And I will continue to do so when anyone—yourself included—ever says something shitty about you.”

I sit up to open the bottle of wine. I need something to do in the face of Lottie’s belief in me. She barely knows me, yet she’s willing to fight on my behalf, regardless. If I wasn’t already wondering if I was falling in love with her, this moment solidified it.

I hand her a paper cup filled with the red wine she likes.

“Is your mom the reason you don’t drink?”

I raise an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure at first if it was just a preference thing until dinner with Mom and Dad. I heard you tell my dad you don’t drink when he offered you a beer.”

“You’re too observant for your own good, you know?” I mutter.

Lottie chuckles. “I know. My parents have been telling me that since I was a kid. They had to give me the birds and the bees talk when I was far too young to fully understand. I’d overheard them having sex one night, and the next morning I asked why Mom was screaming.”

I bust out laughing. “All I can picture is your mom trying to be serious and your dad sitting there, smugly embarrassed.”

“You’re not far off.” Lottie looks at me with an openness that tells me I could get away with changing the subject if I wanted, but oddly enough, I don’t. I’ve never opened up to anyone about my past. I don’t like thinking about it, so I don’t. After the way Lottie defended me, I have no doubt I could tell her anything, and she won’t judge me for it.

But I’m not ready to tell her everything.

“My mom had me when she was seventeen. Even then, she was addicted to alcohol. I don’t know the details because I was too little and we never talked about it, but I think my grandad managed to get her to stop drinking while she was pregnant with me. I wasn’t born with any defects, regardless. I do know Grandad raised me until I was about five. Mom always told me he kicked us out and didn’t want anything to do with us, but when I got older, I realized it was likely because my mom was using him for his money. I never understood why she took mewith her, though. Wouldn’t it have been easier on her to leave me with him?”

“I don’t know your mom, but sometimes when people are hurting, they hurt others to feel like they’re not alone. Maybe she thought taking you would hurt your grandad the most.”

I shrug. “Sounds about right. She was great at manipulating a situation to get what she wanted. It didn’t matter who she hurt in the process.”

Lottie moves, pressing on my shoulder to roll me onto my back. Then she drapes herself across my chest, her chin resting on the back of her hand. I didn’t know I needed the comfort of her body on mine. It brings me back from the memories of hiding in my closet when Mom was at her worst.

I shake the thought away. I can’t talk about that with Lottie. Not yet.

“Tell me something you loved when you were a kid,” Lottie says quietly.

It takes me a second to remember, but when I do, I smile. “One night, when I was about twelve, Mom came and jumped on my bed. She hadn’t been drinking as much that day, so her eyes were brighter than I’d seen them in a while. She held up a flyer for the county fair that had come to town. It was the first and last night I spent with my mom where we were more like best friends goofing around.”

“I love going to our county fair. My parents used to take us every year when I was little. Now we all meet up there to spend the evening together. The lights and happy squeals of families spending time together will always make me smile.”

She tells me about the year they lost Caroline in the mirror maze because she decided to sit down instead of finding her way out. I have no idea how Lottie knew I needed to think about something else. I was getting close to falling into the trap of dark memories that like to take hold, leaving me covered in thefilth of my past.

Laughing at Lottie’s stories gives me time to shove the darkness back into the box I usually keep locked down.

“Oh, and one time, Caro managed to out a bully when she caught him pushing one of her classmates out of their wheelchair. With the permission of her friend, she plastered pictures of the bully tipping the chair over on every locker and window in our school. I have no idea how she got the footage. We only had security cameras in the main areas of our high school.”

“Why does it not surprise me that Caroline would have no qualms about putting a bully in his place? How did she manage that?”

“That’s the mystery of my little sister. She either never got caught or was somehow able to avoid the consequences. I think our teachers saw her as a silent vigilante for the kids who didn’t have anyone to stick up for them. Nobody wanted to face the wrath of Caroline Jackson. I might still have a picture from back then on my phone. Let me look.” She sits up to scroll through her photos.

“You have an amazing family. You know that, right?”

Lottie looks up at me, her face softening. “Yeah, I do. I’ll happily share them with you. I can’t wait for you to meet the whole group. My grandparents, too. They’re in their eighties and travel around in an RV. They’ve become major hippies.”

Before I can respond, Lottie’s face drops.

“What is it?”

“I just got the weirdest text.” She turns the phone around to show me.

Unknown

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