Page 147 of Now and Then

“Yeah, sorry, I haven’t been staying here much, so . . .”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Things with you and Hunter are going well?”

“Things are going really well.” I blush.

I spend the next several minutes rehashing my relationship with Hunter, then tell her about the accident after the fire. It feels like I’m dumping every thought from my head into her lap, but I can’t stop. I tell her about what Hunter said about me worrying more than I need to and about all the time he’s spending working on something in the backyard. The look on my mom’s face when I finish makes me burst out laughing.

“Um, sorry about that,” I say. “I didn’t mean to unload on you. I needed to think, but obviously I needed to think out loud.”

She sets her glass of wine down, palms resting on her knees. “About Hunter?”

I nod, biting the inside of my lip. “About everything, but, yes, him. It’s just . . . I can’t stop worrying. I was doing so well going with the flow, but then he got hurt. And now, I don’t know, it feels like I’m slipping. Like the second I let myself feel too happy, something comes along to ruin it. I mean, we finally get together, and look at everything that’s happened since . . .” My voice catches.

Mom’s gaze softens but her voice is firm. “Sutton, you don’t control to protect Hunter or anyone else. You do it to protect yourself.”

The words hit me like a punch. My hands curl around the edge of my blanket.

“Control is an illusion, Sutton,” she says. “Love will always be scary, and Life will always be uncertain. But you choose it anyway. Your dad would want you to live, not grip everything so tightly that nothing can grow.”

I blink, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“You had so much happen all at once—Brandon leaving, Dad’s death, and the baby—it’s no wonder you retreated into yourself and locked that beautiful heart of yours away. You’ve done what you’ve had to do these last six years to protect your heart,” she says gently. “But you have to remember, sometimes bad things happen, especially when you least expect them. Same with the good things. And nothing you do will change that. But you can choose to be present for it. You have to trust that everything that happens is part of your journey.”

Something inside me shifts. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this isn’t about controlling outcomes or bracing for the rug to get yanked out from under me. Maybe it’s about trusting the people around me. Trusting him. But most of all, trusting me.

“I don’t want to lose him,” I whisper. “I think that would break me.”

“You won’t,” Mom says without hesitation. “Honey, that man has loved you since the moment he met you. You weren’t meant to be together then, but you are now. You have to allow that love room to grow into something even more beautiful, even though it means accepting the unknown that Life will inevitably throw at you.”

I take a shaky breath and nod, letting her words sink in.

“I don’t mean to push,” she says, “but have you ever thought about talking to someone? Like a therapist?”

“I thought about it, but I chickened out. I had Hunter and, I don’t know, now it feels like too much time has passed for it to even matter.”

She covers her hand with mine. “Sweetheart, it’s never too late. I only started going last year and—”

“You go to therapy?” I don’t know why I’m so surprised, but I am. She’s always so . . . together.

“Those first few years, you were a godsend, but I also leaned on you more than I should have. But then last year, you seemed restless, and I worried that you stayed here with me because you felt like you had to. So, I started seeing Libby. She specializes in grief counseling, and she’s helped me heal and change my coping mechanisms.”

I wipe at my cheek with the sleeve of my sweater. “I can’t just change overnight.”

“Of course you can’t. All you can do is take one step at a time.” She smiles and leans forward, squeezing my hand. “Think about it this way . . . You’ve already started. You’re talking about your feelings instead of keeping them locked inside, and you’re voicing your fears instead of letting them swallow you whole. You didn’t panic when there were setbacks with the open house. And you’re finally letting yourself fall for the man who has seen you in your darkest moments and remained by your side. You’re not the same Sutton I knew three months ago.” Mom pulls me in for a tight hug.

When we pull apart, she says, “I’m going to check on the pizzas.” She heads to the kitchen, and I stay curled on the sofa, staring at the glow of the Christmas lights strung across the mantle, letting the calm settle all the way into my bones.

Maybe I am changing.

Maybe that’s the point.

32

Sutton

Soft morning light filters through my bedroom curtain. I roll over, stretching my limbs to each corner. I missed sleeping next to Hunter last night, but I can’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy taking up the whole bed. When I sit up and glance out my window, gray clouds sit low in the sky, as if they’re ready to unleash a winter storm. I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly.

No thoughts whirl through my head like vultures. No rock sits low in my stomach.