like this.”
“I’m fine.” I want to stand up and storm away, but I don’t have the energy.
That’s been happening a lot lately, too. I just…run out of steam, and can’t seem to get going again. It’s hard to believe I used to be one of those people who could go all day on three hours of sleep and a few cups of coffee.
It’s hard to believe I was ever the happy person in the picture on the side of the van.
“You’re not fine,” Aria says, chiming in. “Trust me, I know what depression looks like, Lark. I was there not so long ago, remember?”
I shrug. “Well, you snapped out of it. I will, too. Just give me some time.”
“No.” The heat in Melody’s tone surprises me. “You don’t get more time. Aria is dealing with an unrepentant asshole who’s too much of a jerk to send money to help support his own daughter, let alone come see his baby girl. You’re bringing this on yourself.”
My eyebrows snap together, anger stirring inside of me for the first time in weeks. “I am not bringing this on myself. You know what happened.”
I’m careful not to look at Aria. I went through a period where I blamed her for the misery cloud dumping rain all over my life, but I eventually came to realize that wasn’t fair. Aria might have stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, but Mason is to blame.
Only Mason, and that’s why I will never see him again.
Never.
Even if my soul shrivels up and dies while I’m trying—and failing—to get over him.
“This is what I know,” Melody says, holding up a finger and ticking it off. “I know Mason made a mistake four years ago that he promised never to repeat again. I know he went to counseling and said it changed him for the better. I know he loves you and treated you very well when he—”
“For five days!” I take a deep breath and continue in a softer voice, “Five days doesn’t prove anything.”
“What about the letters?” Melody presses. “I know he’s been sending you one every week since you told him to leave town. Have you even been reading them?”
I bristle. “How do you know about the letters?” I ask, refusing to answer the question.
I haven’t been reading them, but that’s none of my sister’s business.
“Mason called me and asked if you’d been getting them so I…checked your mailbox a few times,” Melody says, sitting up straighter.
“You talked to him behind my back?” I ask, outraged. “How could you, Melody? You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“We are on your side,” Aria says, laying a slim hand on my back. “We love you, and we want you to be happy. That’s why we decided we had to talk to you tonight.”
“Gang up on me is more like it.” I still feel prickly all over. Like a cactus with needles that poke in both directions—jabbing out and in at the same time.
“Consider it a March family intervention. Because Mom and Dad are on board with this, too, and ready to add their two cents if necessary,” Melody says, showing no sign of backing down. “When Mason left the first time, we all put up with the crying and the moping and the feeling sorry for yourself for months and months on end, but this time it’s different.”
I flinch, too shocked and hurt by my sister’s words to respond.
“You were young before,” Melody continues. “And it was your first broken heart, and Mom and Dad told us to give you time to learn how to heal. But you’re twenty-five now. You’re a grown woman with a successful business, who’s already been down this road. Even if Mason had done the same thing he did four years ago—which he didn’t—there would be no excuse for the way you’ve been acting.”
“I’m ready to leave.” I stand, moving stiffly to my feet.
Melody pops up from the grass, moving to block my path to the driver’s side of the van. “Mason never should have run away without any explanation, but at least he’s done the work to make sure he’s not going to hurt someone like that again. Now it’s your turn, Lark.”
“My turn to what?” I ask, my voice rising.
“To do the work. To grow up and take responsibility for your feelings and realize no one is perfect. Not even you.”
“I never said I was perfect,” I say, more hurt by my little sister in this moment than I can remember