AmyHealing tears.
Acceptance.
A mom who loves me.
As I lean against the passenger window of Landon’s truck, my unfocused gaze takes in the bleary autumn Michigan landscape. There are a few stubborn leaves holding on to the bare tree branches.
Landon has the satellite pop music station on, but the peppy tempos and high vocals are making me feel ragey. I don’t say anything though. I’ve already said more than enough today.
Despite my shame, I suppose I’m happy Landon witnessed my breakdown because even I can admit that I need help. As deeply as I don’t want to ask for it, I need it.
There’s so much underlying hurt where Landon and I are concerned. The words he spoke on his front porch still burn me down to my core. Yet now is not the time to address them—not when I’m torn between which
