Page 44 of The Love Playbook

“Charlotte . . .” Mom’s big brown eyes meet mine, filled with an anguish I don’t understand.

“You can do this,” I say, gripping her by the arms, willing her to listen.

I wait until she nods, watching as she starts to undress to ensure she’s heard everything I said before I head out into the kitchen and pull my phone from my pocket.

I find Chris’s phone number from an old text thread between him, Jace, Brynn, and me and shoot him a message.

ME: Sorry. I might need longer than I thought. You can go grab something to eat if you want and pick me back up in an hour.

I wait to see if he responds, somewhat relieved when he does almost immediately.

CHRIS: Okay, but don’t worry about me. Take all the time you need. I’m good.

I exhale, grateful for once he’s so easygoing.

Turning toward the refrigerator, I open it up, hoping for something simple and quick I can make and say a prayer of thanks to Carol because she’s stocked the fridge and freezer, which means she probably filled the pantry, too.

After perusing the contents, I decide on making Mom breakfast for dinner, placing the bacon in a skillet for it to crisp while I get to work on the eggs and wait on the freezer waffles to toast in the toaster.

Not the most nutritious, but it’ll have to do.

Once the food is ready and on the table, I pour her a large glass of orange juice and hear footsteps from down the hall. Mom appears in the kitchen, hair damp from the shower, looking somewhat more human despite her hollow expression.

“Sit,” I say, pushing the glass of juice toward her.

Mom settles into her chair, staring down at the mound of food like it’s a foreign object. “You didn’t have to do this,” she mumbles.

No, I didn’t, but I don’t know how tonotwant to fix the broken pieces inside of her. I’ve been trying since I was a child.

“It’s fine. Just eat and I’ll be happy,” I say.

Mom tries for a smile, but it falters. Still, she lifts a piece of bacon to her mouth and takes a bite before she glances at the empty place setting across from her. “You’re not eating?”

“Not hungry.”

“But you expect me to eat when I’m not hungry?”

The familiar spike of anger from earlier returns, but I push it down. “I’ll eat later at the dorms.” I slide into a chair across from her, watching her closely as I say, “Mom, you have to take care of yourself. You can’t do this anymore.”

Because I’m not here to stop you from hitting rock bottom.

Hell, I don’t even know what rock bottom looks like because I’ve always been around to buffer the fall, but I can imagine it. And the image imprinted on my brain isn’t pretty.

“I can’t be at school and worrying about you every day I’m gone, and I can’t come home all the time either, especially without a car.”

“What happened to your car?” She lifts her head, taking me in with dead eyes.

“It broke down when I was here for my birthday, remember? I told you this.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” She tries for a smile, but I can tell she doesn’t remember, not to mention the fact she said nothing about everything else I said.

“Are you going to see Dr. Sherri for your session on Monday?” I ask, trying to tamp down the frustration bubbling in my chest.

Mom shrugs. “She’s so expensive and I don’t think she’s helping that much.”

“She might be expensive, but I disagree. You’ve made some real progress under her. All last year, you thrived under her care, despite the fact I was gone. As long as you go weekly, you seem to do really well, but you can’t just skip sessions.”

“Fine. I’ll go,” she says with a huff as she pushes the eggs around on her plate.

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