Sean

I ducked out of the liquor store with a bottle of Melissa’s favorite wine and a pint of peach Schnapps for Anna. Though the Schnapps was really for me since I planned on licking it off her body later tonight.

Maybe I’d take her back to the theater room. Our make-up sex was hot as fuck, even if I didn’t know what we were fighting about.

The pictures.

They meant nothing to me, those images. But as soon as I returned from LA, I’d sweep the house for possible landmines.

As I turned onto the backroads, I hit the hands-free and placed a call to Anna.

Willow’s screaming drowned out my hello. 

“No, no, no!!!” she chanted.

“What’s going on?” The speedometer crept up as I leaned on the gas pedal. “Anna, what’s happening?”

“Willow!” Anna grunted, ignoring my question. “Stop wiggling! You will wear shoes!”

I blew out a relieved breath and then chuckled. “Are you really lecturing the kid about wearing shoes? That’s funny since you don’t wear them half the time yourself.” 

“My daughter is not showing up at your aunt’s house with no shoes. I don’t want her to think I’m not a good mother.”

“Anna—”

“I can take care of my daughter. I can!”

Confused by Anna’s sudden wave of insecurity, I blew right past the guy at the guard shack.

“Anna-baby, don’t stress,” I said. “You’ve known Lissa since you were fifteen. She loves you. And she’s going to love Willow too, shoes or no shoes.”

Silence, followed by a sniffle. “Did you tell her about Willow’s hearing?”

Impatient, I punched in the gate code. “Of course I did. Why would you ask me that?”

“Because Willow doesn’t speak well.” Another sniff. “You don’t know anything about kids, so you don’t notice it, but Melissa will.”

Wedging my phone between my ear and my shoulder so I wouldn’t drop the call, I turned off the engine and then grabbed the liquor and the flowers from the passenger seat. “Do you really think Melissa is going to love Willow any less because she can’t recite the fucking dictionary?” Anger propelled me up the front steps. “That’s pretty shitty, Annabelle.” 

“It’s not Willow’s fault,” she said quietly. “It’s mine.” 

“You know that’s not true. Willow was born with a hearing problem.”

“I’m not talking about her hearing loss! I’m talking about the diagnosis! I told them . . . I told the doctors she wasn’t slow . . . or autistic. But they wouldn’t listen . . . I couldn’t make them listen.” Anna rambled on, despair coloring her tone. “I saw the way she looked at me, Sean. Trying to mimic me. Maybe if I could’ve got the doctors to listen sooner, she’d speak better.” 

From the bedroom door, I watched my girl come apart.

Silent now, with the phone clutched to her ear, Anna stared out the window, tears spilling down her cheeks. Willow sat on the floor, playing with her sandals, oblivious. On the nightstand, I spotted her hearing aids.

I crossed the room, and when I touched Anna’s shoulder, the phone slipped out of her hand. She looked up at me with watery eyes, anguish creasing her brow.

There was nothing to say, so I cupped her cheek, wicking her tears away with the pad of my thumb. And then I kissed her, tasting all her fears. The burdens she carried.

When Anna broke our connection, she took a fortifying breath and then smiled, ready to resume her battle.

But it was my turn to carry the load.

I scooped up our little angel along with her pink sandals. “Relax, baby. Let me worry about the kid’s shoes.”

“I told you,” I mouthed to Anna, smirking.

I was right about Melissa. Enthralled didn’t begin to describe the way she looked at Willow.

Anna rolled her eyes, then went back to picking at her food. It wasn’t like she could eat anything with my aunt running around snapping photos every few seconds.

I shook my head at Melissa when she reached for her camera. Again.

She ignored me. “Smile, Willow-baby.”

Willow grinned, her mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“Like you’ve got room for any more pictures,” I said as I looked around at the photos lining the shelves and crowding the tables. The dead and the living, side by side. Not that it pained me to see my mother. Not anymore. But in this house, it was like she was joining us for dinner. 

“Never you mind, sugar,” Melissa said, dropping into her chair to check out the screen on her camera. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Where’s Chelsea?” I asked, motioning for Anna to eat while she had the chance. “I thought you said she’d be here.”

Melissa sighed. “Shopping for her prom dress. She’s been gone all day.” Her eyes darted to mine. “You did lower the limit on her credit card, didn’t you?”

“Nah.” Capturing Anna’s foot under the table, I winked at my girl. “You only have one prom night, right, baby?”

Anna’s cheeks flamed and she shifted, giving me the evil eye. Yes, we’d gone to prom, junior prom at least. But we’d stayed less than an hour, and the only thing I remembered about Anna’s dress was the way it looked on the floor of her parents’ cabin.

With a little grin, Anna picked up her sweet tea. “Let’s hope Chelsea has as good a time as we did.”

And then it hit me. Some little asshole was going to be trying the same moves on my cousin that I’d used on Anna.

My stomach turned.

I was still obsessing when Melissa put a framed picture on the table in front of me. One of the last photos of my mother. “Notice anything?”

After glancing at the image for a couple of seconds, I refocused on my dinner. “Yeah, nice shot.”

Melissa nudged me. “You are so thick sometimes, Sean Jacob.”

Anna stifled a snort, either because she agreed or she knew I hated it when people used my full name.

“Look,” Melissa urged, holding the camera next to my mother’s picture. “Your baby has Gracie’s eyes.”

Humoring my aunt, I picked up the pewter frame, and as I glanced from the small screen on the camera to the memory in my hand, I saw it. It wasn’t only the color—we all shared the same azure hue—but my mother’s eyes burned a little brighter. By the time she died, the disease had all but stolen the radiance, but there it was, that forgotten sparkle, in my daughter’s eyes.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Yeah, she does.”

Since I couldn’t get any more food down, I pushed my plate away. This time Anna’s foot found mine. She smiled at me in that knowing way, and all I wanted to do was drag her upstairs and kiss her stupid.

Melissa reclaimed her seat and said to Anna, “I’d love to get some of Willow’s baby pictures if you have any copies lying around.”

I bit down a smile because my aunt was the only person I knew who ordered photos in triplicate.

Anna picked up her bag, and to my surprise, she pulled a 3x5 from her wallet. “This is Willow’s hospital picture.” She handed the snapshot to Melissa. “You can keep it. I have more.”

Sneaking a peek over my aunt’s shoulder, the lump in my throat doubled in size. Willow looked so tiny, like a little doll. Her red hair stuck up in every direction. And that scowl. She looked mad at the world, her fingers balled into tight fists under her chin. 

Melissa turned the photo over, and a gasp escaped. She blinked at Anna. “You named her after Gracie.” 

Anna blushed and shifted her attention to Willow. “It’s a beautiful name.”

Sniffling, Melissa wobbled to her feet and then folded Anna into a hug. They broke apart when the front door slammed.

“Sean, are you here?” Chelsea called, and before I could answer she rushed into the room. “You are here!” She tossed a black garment bag over the back of an empty chair and then threw her arms around me. “I thought you were out of town.”

I brushed a kiss to her temple. “I’m leaving tomorrow. What’ve you been up to?”

Flipping her long, sandy brown hair over her shoulder, Chelsea sank into the seat beside me. “Not much. Just getting ready for the prom. I found the cutest dress and . . .”

Chelsea stopped speaking mid-sentence. Lips parted and eyes narrow, she glared at Anna. “What is she doing here?” she demanded, all her fury aimed at me.

The room went silent, and before I could answer, Anna said, “Hey, baby girl. It’s good to see you.”

Chelsea shot to her feet. “Don’t call me that! Why are you here? Don’t you have a husband somewhere? Shouldn’t you be eating supper with him?”

My chair hit the floor with a thud, Chelsea’s rapid-fire questions echoing in my head. I towered over my cousin, too afraid to open my mouth and release the venom crawling from the pit of my stomach.

Melissa muscled her way in between us. “Chelsea Nicole,” she snapped, “you apologize right now.”

“Why should I?” Chelsea countered, her fierce gaze locked on mine. “She disappears for four years, and now she wants to come back?” She shook her head. “No. She needs to go.”

I managed to take hold of Chelsea’s arm. “Upstairs,” I barked. “Now.”

Chelsea lifted her chin, defiant. “You’re taking her side?”

When her focus shifted to Anna, it was like someone let the air out of Chelsea’s face.

“She’s got a kid?” Chelsea spluttered.

My gaze collided with Anna’s, and even with the animosity swirling in the air, I managed a smile. “Willow. Her name is Willow.”

Melissa grinned as if my declaration should mean something to Chelsea. It didn’t. My cousin bolted from the room without another word.

Flustered, Melissa wiped her hands on her apron. “I-I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“It’s fine,” Anna said softly as she pushed back from the table. “I’m going to wash up. Be right back.”

Willow’s little face peered over her mother’s shoulder as Anna walked out of the room.

“Dammit,” I muttered, grabbing my chair and righting it. As I sank into my seat, I glared at Melissa. It wasn’t her fault, but she was the only one in the room. “Why would Chelsea do that? None of this,” I motioned around helplessly, “is Anna’s fault. It’s on me.”

Nodding, Melissa laid a hand on my shoulder. “I know that, sugar. And so does Chelsea. But she can’t put the blame where it belongs.” She smiled. “On you. You’re her hero. She doesn’t want to hear about you leaving your girlfriend to chase other women. Hits a little too close to home.” 

Melissa rubbed my shoulder to soften the blow, but it didn’t help. Chelsea’s father was a pitiful excuse for a man, running out on his family when Chelsea was still a baby. The fucker came back, sniffing around for a handout when the first Caged CD hit the airways. The only thing he got was my fist in his face when I lit him up outside the Parish. 

Being compared to that piece of shit twisted my gut.

Melissa sighed as she dropped into the chair beside me. “She’ll come around. But you can’t let this come between you.”

I nodded, lost in my thoughts, my eyes on the doorway waiting for Anna to return.

“Sean,” Melissa took my hand, “before Anna gets back, I need to talk to you.”

An ominous feeling spread through my limbs, emanating from our joined hands. “What’s up?”

My dread made a hard right turn straight into panic when Melissa averted her gaze. “I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago. I wasn’t feeling like myself. They found a lump.”

The world tilted, and I feared I might slide off into space.

Breathe. 

When my brain refused to follow the simple command, I sat there, contemplating death by suffocation. Which beat cancer. 

Melissa patted my hand, which was numb, along with the rest of me. “It runs in the family. Maybe it’s fate.” 

And with that, she stood up and gathered a couple of plates before walking to the kitchen. I stumbled after her and caught her arm, my grip slackening when I felt bone.

The dull roar in my ears grew louder as I looked at her. Really looked at her. Shadows bruised her eyes, and her cheeks were hollow.

How did I miss it?

Because you weren’t looking.

“Are you sure it’s—” The word wouldn’t come. It never did. Not without a fight. “Cancer?”

Melissa glided away, and then shoveled some mashed potatoes into the garbage disposal. “Yes. But they caught it early.”

“How early?”

She lifted a frail shoulder. “Not sure. They’ll know more after they do the mastectomy. I’ve always wanted a boob job anyway.”

Her light chuckle did nothing to lighten the mood. Breast cancer took my mother and my grandmother. I found no humor in that.

Grabbing a plate from Melissa’s hand, I absently shoved it into the dishwasher. “What can I do? Anything, Melissa. The best doctors. The best plastic surgeons.”

The best funeral.

She peered up at me, smiling, but when her lips parted nothing came out. Her focus was on the archway.

I felt her then. Anna. And when I turned, she was there, eyes wide, holding tight to Willow’s hand.

She rushed out of the room and then I heard glass shatter.

“Shit,” I muttered, following the sound.

On her knees, Anna gathered shards of crystal off the hardwood. “Sorry . . . I’m sorry . . .” she babbled, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the Waterford bowl or my aunt or what.

I pulled Anna to her feet, carefully extracting her from the mess. “Don’t move. Let me get a broom.”

My attention shifted to Willow, huddled against the wall with her thumb between her lips.

I nearly collided with Melissa when I spun around. She shoved a broom into my hand and then joined Anna, and together they shuffled to the family room.

Crouching to sweep up the mess, I made eye contact with my daughter. “Stay there, Willow-baby,” I said, my tone firm but gentle. 

Soft with a hard edge. I’d finally mastered the technique.

“Sugar, you can’t worry about that,” Melissa said to Anna. “If it happens we’ll be prepared.” 

A thunderbolt crashed in my skull, and everything went white.

It.

My grandmother, my mother, my aunt.

My daughter. 

The pieces slid into place forming an unimaginable picture.

Glass crunched under my knees as I scooted toward the little angel who looked so much like her mother. Except for the eyes. Those were mine. Because she had my genes.

Pulling Willow into my arms, I pressed my lips to her ear. “Let’s get some dessert.” 

Anna’s watery emerald gaze met mine and she smiled. But I could barely look at her, let alone reciprocate. All I wanted was to feed my daughter a big bowl of ice cream. And hide from the truth.