As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right, but that’s just who I am. I like playing in the garden among the flowers and chasing after butterflies.
The fire in her eyes changes as her expression changes. She takes one step before pulling me into a hug.
“I’m sorry, Sissy,” she whispers, patting my back. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to. Not when my hiccupping hasn’t stopped.
“You know I love you,” she pulls away and says. Her eyes are on mine and her hands hold my upper arms. “I didn’t mean any of it.”
I nod my head, but the stab is still there. I can’t stop her words from echoing in my head like a broken record. They hurt, and the more my mind plays them, the more my heart breaks.
“Look at me,” she demands in a soft voice and I oblige. That
