Bri’s phone pings on the counter. She swipes it, reads, and chews her lip. “It’s Dad. He says he’s on his way home.”
“Oh, okay.” I aim for nonchalant, but the disappointment threads my voice before I can catch it.
Brianna looks up at me. “Did something happen?”
“No,” I say too quickly, drying my hands on a towel. “It’s—no.”
“I’m not blind. Something is going on. Dad was acting like someone had pissed in his shoes this morning.”
A laugh flies out of me.
I prop a hip against the counter and choose honesty, if not the whole of it. “We got into a little fight, but it’s fine. We’ll make up.”
She studies me like a puzzle with one piece missing. “Okay.”
We head upstairs together. At her door, Brianna starts to duck into her room, but I stop her. “Hey, can I come in for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Bri drops onto the edge of her bed, fussing with the hem of her T-shirt. I sit beside her, leaving an inch of space.
“You got quiet earlier,” I say. “When I told you about the case.”
She shrugs, eyes on her fingers. “It’s just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about my mom.” The last word comes out hesitant, like it doesn’t fit right in her mouth. “Everyone has opinions. Grandma. Maggie. Dad.”
“What about you? What doyouwant?”
“I don’t know. I feel bad if I say I want to see her. Like I’m betraying Dad. But I feel weird if I say I don’t. I keep thinking she’ll get mad or—” She swallows. “Or leave again.”
I reach over, palm up. Bri places her hand in mine, fingers tense. “You’re not responsible for anyone else’s feelings here. Not your dad’s, not Vanessa’s, not anyone else’s. This isyourchoice. If you want to try seeing your mom, slowly, on your terms, that’s okay. And if you need space, that’s okay too.”
She blinks fast. “Dad hates Mom.”
“Dad is protective of you,” I correct gently. “And he lovesyoumore than he hates anything. If you decide you want a relationship with her, I know he’ll respect that. You don’t have toavoid your mother to prove you’re loyal to him. That’s not your job.”
“But what if I try and it sucks?”
“Then we regroup. We set new boundaries. We make a different plan. You won’t be alone in it. We’ll be with you the whole way.” I breathe, then add, “I don’t talk about it much, but I know what it feels like to miss a parent. My dad died when I was little.” The old ache wakes up, familiar and dull. “I remember that empty feeling, and the way it makes you scared to let people in—because what if they leave, too?”
Bri’s chin trembles. “Yeah.”
“We can’t fix the past. But wanting connection doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
Her face crumples. She tips sideways and presses her forehead to my shoulder. I wrap an arm around her and rub slow circles between her shoulder blades, letting her cry into my T-shirt.
“I don’t want to hurt Dad if I want to see Mom sometimes,” she says into the fabric. “I want to know why she left. And if she’s really different now.”
“That’s honest and brave.”
Brianna sniffs, pulls back, and I pass her a tissue from her nightstand. “How do I tell him?”
“Tell him exactly what you told me. That you want to try, on your terms. And if it ever stops feeling okay, you get to change your mind.”
Her shoulders loosen a fraction. We sit there a minute more. Bri squeezes my hand, then releases it.
“Thanks, Mya,” she says.
“Anytime.” I brush a curl behind her ear and stand, smoothing the quilt on her bed before heading out into the hall.