25
At the end of that emotional rollercoaster of a Christmas day, Isabelle closed herself in her room and slumped onto her shag rug, leaning her back against her bed. She felt exhausted and chilled, running on empty. Snagging her favorite, most fluffy parka, the brown one that looked like a Cocoa Puff, from the back of her chair, she cuddled under it as if it were a cocoon.
Just within reach sat the box of her mother’s journals.
“Okay, Mom. Let’s do this thing. I’ve gone through every possible emotion today, so why not add some more drama?” she muttered after she’d warmed up a little. She drew the box toward her. “Let’s just pile it on, why not?”
Pile. Lyle.
And just like that, her thoughts spun back to the biggest shocker of the day—Lyle’s confession.
She still didn’t know what to m
