“Your grams is a smart woman.” He takes another bite, closes his eyes and really tastes the cookie. It’s something I noticed right away when baking with Carter. He likes to smell and taste everything. It’s fascinating. He told me his best tools in his chef toolbox are his taste buds and nose, so he constantly tastes and smells things, which is funny to me, because they are simple baking ingredients. “Do you bake a lot, Snowflake?”

  “I do. I love baking. When I was living with Grams, we would spend the whole day baking and then take baskets around to the different firehouses in the area to thank them for their hard work.”

  Carter has his arms folded across his chest, his hip leaning against the counter, and an inquisitive look on his face, those deep brown eyes intensely observing me from under his jet-black hair. I’ve enjoyed his company, but I’ve also felt very exposed the entire time, not from his questioning or his posture, but by the way his eyes thoughtfully study my every movement.

  What’s he thinking? Not that I’m very good at reading people, but I would like to at least see some kind of tell from him. Does he think I’m funny? Dorky? Insecure? Could he see me shake when I dumped ingredients in the bowl? Could he hear the waver in my voice when I spoke about the recipe and how to not overmix the batter? Can he sense how nervous I am around him?

  I invited Carter over to grow my support system, to make friends. I really put myself out there, broke past some fears of mine to have him over and yet, all I can think about is how incredibly handsome he is, but not in the typical sense. He’s different, dark, very mysterious, and the complete and total opposite of my personality.

  I’ve tried to keep myself from staring at him, from leaning in to smell his intoxicating cologne, and getting too close, breaking his personal space, but it’s been hard. I’ve felt very awkward around him. I hate that. I hate that I can’t be one of those confident girls when talking to a man.

  But I shouldn’t be worried about that. He’s supposed to be my friend and nothing else. I’m not in this program to try to fall for the first guy I meet, I’m supposed to be discovering a new me. My priorities aren’t straight. Today was supposed to be about growth for myself but instead, I’m acting like a teenage girl around a cute boy. Or at least what I think that is like. He’s so worldly wise, he can probably tell how nervous I am.

  “Snowflake, you’ve been scrubbing that bowl in the same spot for a minute. Pretty sure it’s clean.”

  Startled from my thoughts, I jump in place, the bowl clattering around in the stainless steel sink.

  “Everything okay over there?”

  “Um, yup,” I say, startled. “Just thinking about the program.”

  “Yeah, not really looking forward to the meeting this Thursday.”

  “Why not?” I ask, rinsing the bowl now. “I like going to the meetings. Marleen has such inspiring things to say.”

  “Inspired is not what I’m looking for,” he answers, looking out toward the window in the dining area.

  “What are you looking for then?”

  “An out.” His voice is grim and before I can respond, Amanda pops through the back door, purse in hand, coffee mug from the morning in the other.

  “Hey Daisy, how—oh, I didn’t know you had company.”

  With a polite smile, she takes in Carter. My cheeks heat up immediately, as if I’m being caught doing something bad.

  “Welcome home, Amanda. Uh, this is my friend Carter.”

  “Carter?” Amanda asks knowingly then turns to assess him one more time. “Daisy’s mentioned your name. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Wincing, I turn to Carter who’s dropped the casual stance and is now standing ramrod straight. I have a feeling he’s no longer comfortable. Was he ever comfortable? I like to think so, but with Amanda here, I’m sure he’s feeling quite awkward, especially with the way she keeps looking him up and down.

  “Hey.” He nods in her direction and then turns to me. “I’ve got to get going. Thanks for the baking lesson.”

  Without another word, he goes to the entryway and from the sound of it, starts putting on his boots.

  Heat crawls up my neck, embarrassment and humiliation swallowing me whole. Not knowing what to do, I turn to Amanda who waves her hand in Carter’s direction, telling me without words to see him to the door.

  I dry my hands on a dish towel and head to the entryway where Carter is already putting on his jacket. Jeeze, he’s quick.

  Twisting my hands in front of me, I ask, “Do you want any cookies to go?”

  “That’s okay,” he answers without looking up.

  Goodness, did I do something wrong? I try to think back to a few minutes ago and recalculate everything I said. Was any of it offensive? I don’t think so. Did I pester him too much? Dive too much into his personal life? Not really.

  Is it me? Does he just not want to hang out with me? Did he not have a good time? Sweat starts to prick the back of my neck. I thought I did everything right. I was kind, polite, I took his jacket, I made conversation, and I showed him how to make cookies. But was that not enough? Did I stare at him too much?

  The notion of him noticing my wandering eyes makes my stomach roll. Please don’t let that be it. How humiliating.

  Grasping on to anything, I say, “I hope you had a nice time.”

  He finishes buttoning up his jacket and tucks his helmet under his arm while putting on his gloves. His eyes dart up to mine, dark to light, our eyes opposite, our personalities completely different, our outlook on life not even close to matching.

  There is a slight tilt to his head, a small smirk to his lips, a small lean in his posture when he says, “I had a nice time, Snowflake. Thanks for having me over.”

  “Then why are you leaving?” The words escape me before I can stop them, surprising me. I clamp my hand over my mouth and shake my head, so terribly embarrassed. “Don’t answer that,” I say quickly. My stomach flips, sweat coats my upper lip, and saliva starts to rise in my mouth. “Um, I need to go. Please shut the door when you leave.” Before he can say bye, I run up the stairs to my bathroom where I quickly grab on to the toilet, my eyes watering.

  Ashamed, flustered, totally abashed, I sit on the floor of my bathroom, unable to comprehend the emotions rolling through me.

  I invited a friend over for the first time. When he wasn’t aware, I . . . I lusted over his handsome features. When he was looking, I acted like an amateur, unable to converse effortlessly. I should be proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone, exposing myself, and taking a chance, but instead, I feel regret. What he must think of me right now?

  And I have to see him in two days. Will he ignore me? Tears prick my eyes. I can’t even think about it.

  “Hey, are you okay in there?” Amanda knocks on the door.

  Wiping my nose, I take a deep breath. “Yeah.” My voice is tight so I keep it to a one-worded answer.

  “Okay.” Amanda pauses, and then says through the door. “He didn’t say anything to hurt your feelings, did he?”

  “No.” I sniff.

  “Okay, because, uh, Hollyn said something that worries me.”

  Curious, I ask, “What did she say?”

  Opening the door, Amanda peeks her head in, a sad smile on her face when she sees me on the floor. “Oh, sweetie.”

  Quickly standing, I wipe at my clothes, straightening them along with my apron. I hold up a hand so she doesn’t feel the need to embrace me. “I’m really okay. Facing fears is hard, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. So what did Hollyn tell you?”

  With a concerned look, she says, “That Carter might not be the best guy and to be careful when around him.”

  Why would Hollyn say that? There is some history between them but it doesn’t seem like it would be to the point that she would tell Amanda to warn me.

  “I think Hollyn might be mistaken. I just don’t think they understand each other.”

  Amanda shrugs. “Just be careful.” From her pocket, she hands me my phone. “Here, this beeped after you went upstairs. I’m going to take a shower and then eat at least four of your cookies.”

  “Only if I can join you.”

  Winking, she says, “It’s a date.”

  Taking off, she leaves me in the bathroom, wondering what Hollyn meant when she said to be careful. Did she really think Carter could hurt me? He might be upset about something happening in his life, but I don’t believe he would ever really hurt me. Would he?

  I remove my apron, splash some water on my face, and then turn to my bedroom where I change into an I Love Lucy pajama set. Even though my khakis have an elastic waistband, I still feel more comfortable in my PJs. Plus, Amanda likes to change into comfortable clothes when she gets home from work, so I like to join her and chat on the couch, all curled up and cozy.

  I pull my hair into a ponytail and then reach for my phone, which is when I remember Amanda said it beeped with a message. I press the home button to make the screen come alive and immediately see a text from Carter.

  A queasy feeling fills the pit of my stomach and my hand shakes as I open his message.

  Carter: Why am I leaving? Because I’m not the kind of guy you should be friends with. Thanks for the cookies.

  Not the kind of guy I should be friends with? Why not? Is there something I’m missing? Is it because I’ve never had a drink before? Maybe I’m too boring for him.

  On the back of my door, there is a mirror that catches my attention. The reflection in the mirror is the girl I’ve always known. She’s sheltered, naïve, old-fashioned, maybe a little outdated, slightly childish. I’ve always liked her, but maybe there is more for the girl in the mirror. Maybe it’s time for her to grow up. Maybe she’s not as likeable as I once thought.

  I want there to be more. Maybe instead of relying on my comforts like baking and crafting, I’ll start expanding my horizons, try new things, see what it’s like to be an adult.

  A change needs to happen, because right now, the person I see in my reflection is still stuck in the past, and I want her to move into the future. I’m doing this for me. I’m changing for me. I’m peeling my layers for me.

  No one else. It doesn’t matter how much they don’t want to hang out with me. This is for me and only me.

  JACE

  “The chatter in the room is wonderful to hear. I really hope you’ve been able to take the last two weeks and develop your support group. In the coming challenges, it will be important to have your group understand you, guide you, and help you through the fears and tests you’ll face.”

  Chatter? More like crickets in our circle. Even Daisy is quiet, which is surprising. I expected the closed-off, arms-crossed, slouching-in-his-chair Carter to be in attendance tonight—he always is—but even Hollyn is a little off. Does she feel weird after our conversation at the Cat Company? I hope I didn’t say anything to offend her.

  “Over the past few weeks, we’ve talked about grieving, letting go, and building support,” Marleen continues. “Not everyone will be at the same pace. Some of you may still be grieving.” Uh yeah, I’ll probably be grieving for the rest of my life. “Some of you might still be holding on to the past, not quite letting go just yet. And some of you might be tackling this program head-on. Being forced to move on to the next stage when you’re not ready isn’t helpful. But here you can learn a few strategies, new skills. You move at your own pace, but take in the challenges when you can. Learn from your peers and as always, spend each day proving your existence. As you would have seen in your information pack, there are names of psychologists who specialize in trauma counseling especially. Please ask if you would like to pursue more one-on-one guidance. The one thing I don’t want to see, is you staying stagnant or regressing to the person you were before you came to the program.”

  Staying stagnant, hell, I’ve felt stagnant since Hope was born. I feel like I’m still in that hospital room, handing her over to June and Alex, the feeling of total heartbreak coating me, constantly clogging my soul with pain. It burns, sears me, and mostly turns me from hot to cold in seconds. It’s like the movie, Groundhog Day, living in a vicious cycle of the same day over and over again, but instead of having to report the weather and trying to score with women like Bill Murray’s character, I’m in a constant state of nausea and utter depression.

  “For the rest of the evening, I would like you to talk to your group about the progress you’ve made, your feelings, what you perceive your holdbacks might be, and what you want to start accomplishing. As always, when you’re finished, write your letters, refer to your book for the next challenge, and feel free to ask me any questions you might have.” She claps her hands and says, “Have at it.”

  She’s a little too enthusiastic for me. Marleen, hint, hint. Some people in this program can’t take the go-get-’em attitude all the time.

  Circling our chairs together, we face one another and wait for Daisy to speak up like usual but she doesn’t. Her gaze is cast down and she has an obvious slump in her shoulders. Not liking what I’m seeing, I ask, “Daisy, how are you doing? You seem quiet tonight.”

  Surprised I singled her out, she lifts her head and looks around in the circle, her eyes shifting longer over Carter who is fiddling with a pen, expertly flipping it through his fingers.

  Before answering, she fidgets in her seat. “I feel a little disheartened.”

  “Why are you disheartened?” Hollyn asks, true concern in her voice.

  “I guess I feel like I’m trying, but I’m not really doing a good job at it. I’m quite clueless as to what I’m trying to accomplish and I’m afraid the person I want to strive to be will never show up. It just seems like I take one step forward only to take a few steps back.”

  “What happened in the past few days that has made you feel like that?” I ask.

  Glancing again at Carter, Daisy takes her time to respond. Something has to be going on there, but with Daisy’s vague answers and the inability to read Carter, I probably won’t be able to figure it out.

  “Nothing per se, but I was looking at myself in the mirror the other day and I didn’t necessary like the person in the reflection.”

  “I can’t speak for Jace and Carter, but I know the feeling, Daisy. It’s been a while since I’ve liked the person in the mirror. The person I see is broken, tired, sad. She’s given up.” After speaking with Hollyn, and really looking into her eyes the other day, I see the woman she’s talking about. It’s evident in the half smile she gives, the sorrow in her voice, and the constantly sagging posture in her shoulders.

  “Given up relates to me as well,” I add, wanting Hollyn to feel like she’s not alone. “I don’t feel the motivation I used to. I’m going through the motions because I have to, I’m obligated to, but I don’t feel the same thrill when I’m in the batting cage, or training. It’s just like my body is in a constant state of numb.”

  “Numb. It’s the perfect way to describe it,” Hollyn agrees with me. “Like nothing can penetrate the veil eclipsing you.”

  “Does it feel like you’re almost choking?” Daisy asks meekly.

  “Yes,” Hollyn and I answer. Carter, of course, is nowhere near the conversation. He’s off in his own little world.

  “I never realized how much I was missing out on, how sheltered I truly was, until I started living outside the bubble I was in with Grams. Now, seeing how Amanda and Matt interact with others, how easy it is for them, makes me wonder if I’ll ever be like them or if I will forever hide behind my craft table awkwardly wishing I was able to be a part of everyone else’s world.”

  Tossing the pen to the ground, Carter lifts his head, anger seeps out of him. “You don’t want to be like everyone else, Snowflake.” His tone is harsh, menacing. “This world is all kinds of fucked up. Hang on to your innocence. You don’t want to be a clone. Be you. Own you.”

  Own you. Those two words resonate with me.

  “Own you,” I repeat softly and then a little louder. “Own you.”

  Looking around the circle, into the eyes of my peers I was randomly put together with but for a reason, I say, “Carter is right. Own. You.” Taking a deep breath, I decide to step up. This feeling that’s eating me alive has to go away somehow, I don’t want to feel fucking sick anymore. “We are all here for a reason, because of something holding us back, whether it be our upbringing, a loss we’ve suffered, or a setback we’ve experienced. We are here to change. Like Marleen said, we’ve been given the tools to grieve, permission to acknowledge and experience the hole our grief caused us. Then, we let it go. We’ve been building the relationships between us, but perhaps what we need to do is accept who we are now, and move forward. Own. You.”

  “What if we don’t like who we are?” Hollyn asks.

  “You have to own it to change it,” I answer back. “Right, Carter?”

  “Sure,” he says, reverting to his unsociable self. And here I thought he was going to be helpful . . . for a second.

  “This week’s challenge is to set goals for ourselves. I think we should own who we are now and set a goal for who we want to be at the end of this program.”

  “I’m sure Carter wants to be a manlier version of Cher, don’t you?” Hollyn asks jokingly, lightening the mood.

  Glancing up, he replies sarcastically, “I really do want to believe in life after love.”

  “Yeah, that will be the day. I’ve worked with you for a few years now, you’re not the love kind of guy.”

  “Love doesn’t exist.” Carter picks up his pen off the ground and starts twirling it again in between his fingers.

  “You don’t believe in love?” Daisy asks, looking like someone just stole her puppy. This sweet girl.

  He spares her a glance and shakes his head. “Hard to believe in love when you’ve never really known what it is.”

  The fun banter quickly dies off, and we’re left with feeling awkward once again. “Uh, we kind of got off topic here.”

  “Because this group stuff is bullshit.” Carter shifts in his seat, pushing down on his jeans. “Do you really think this is going to help you? Talking about your feelings?”

 

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