CHAPTER 134: MASCARA IS TOO EXPENSIVE FOR TEARS

"Is Mommy ever gonna wake up?" Alia cried, her voice muffled against my shirt. "She’s been sick forever. I don’t wanna be an orphan like Violet said."

My own tears blurred my vision, but I held her tighter. "You won’t be an orphan, peach. Mom is fighting. She’s gonna wake up. She’s gonna make pancakes for you again. I promise."

"You’re lying!" she screamed, pulling back just enough to look at me. Her face was red and streaked with tears. "You always lie! You lied about Dad. You said he just traveled, but he never came back. He’s never coming back, right? So stop lying to me!"

Her words shattered something in me.

I froze, clutching her trembling body, while the street around us kept moving. A car honked in the distance. A dog barked behind a fence. But all I heard was her voice.. You lie. You always lie.

And she was right.

I had lied. About Mom. About Dad. About everything. Every morning when I packed her lunch and told her it would be a good day. Every night when I tucked her in and swore Mom would be home soon. I lied to myself just to keep breathing. Just to keep her believing.

But what if one day the lie cracks open? What if there was nothing left for her to hold on to?

Her shoulders shook against me, her sobs soaking into my shirt. She was just eight, but she carried the same fear I did....being left behind.

And me? I wasn’t her dad. I wasn’t her mom. I was barely holding myself together. Who the hell was I to think I could hold her too?

What if I wasn’t enough?

What if she grew up angry, broken like another version of me?

What if one day she believed Violet’s words, believed she really was an orphan, because her brother couldn’t bear to tell her the truth?

I blinked hard, but the tears came anyway. I buried my face in her hair so she the tears falling out of me to. She wouldn’t see me falling apart.

"Peach," I whispered. "I don’t always get it right. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying. Please don’t stop trusting me."

She hiccupped against me, her tiny fists curled tight into me, like she was holding on for both of us.

I rubbed her back in circles, even tho my hands were shaking.

"You’re all I’ve got, Alia," I choked. "I don’t care what anyone says. I’m gonna be here. Even if I mess it up. Even if I don’t know how. I’m not leaving you. I love you so much, peach."

The truth was, I was terrified. Terrified that love wouldn’t be enough. That one day she’d look at me and see nothing but the boy who failed her.

The tired, terrified, broken version of a parent I never asked to be.

But right there on the sidewalk, I held her tighter, like she was the only thing anchoring me to this world. Hoping my arms could do what my words couldn’t.... convince her she wasn’t alone.

Her breathing slowed against me, but her sniffles kept breaking through. I stroked her hair, trying to think of something that could pull her out of this spiral.

Ice cream. Maybe ice cream would help.

I brushed her hair back, kissing the top of her head. "Hey, peach," I whispered, softening my voice. "What do you say we go get ice cream? Your favorite bubble gum flavor. My treat."

For a second, I thought she’d say no, but then she gave the tiniest nod against my chest.

Alia always went for the bubblegum flavor that turned her tongue blue. If I could get her to laugh at her own blue tongue in the mirror, maybe she’d forget Violet’s words for tonight.

As I wiped her face with my sleeve, another thought crept in. Maybe I should call June. She was better at this kind of thing. June always knew what to say, in that dramatic, girl-boss way of hers.

She wouldn’t let Violet get the last word. She’d probably teach Alia some clap-back lines to use the next time that brat opened her mouth.

And maybe Alia needed that advice from someone who wasn’t me fumbling through parenthood, but another girl who actually understood what it felt like.

I swallowed, weighing it. Ice cream or June. Maybe both. Maybe Alia needed sugar and girl-boss pep talk armor.

I could already hear her: "Next time Violet runs her mouth, you look her dead in the eye and say, ’At least I don’t smell like expired milk.’"

Alia would laugh at that.

She needed someone like June reminding her she wasn’t weak, that she could fight back.

I took Alia’s hand, squeezing it gently. "Let’s go get that ice cream first," I said, forcing a smile for her sake. "And maybe... maybe we’ll call June. She’s got some girl secrets she’ll wanna share with you."

Alia blinked up at me, her bottom lip still trembling, but I caught the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth.

It wasn’t a full smile. But it was something.

The bus pulled away, Alia tiny hands still gripped mine.

She was quiet now, but her eyes still had that glassy, fragile look that broke me all over again.

By the time we stepped into the ice cream shop, the neon-pink OPEN

sign buzzing above us, I had already texted June the address. On the way there, I’d called her and spilled everything. She was furious, like I knew she would be.

The bell above the shop door jingled as we stepped inside.

Alia’s eyes widened at the rows of tubs stacked with colors....mint green, strawberry pink, chocolate.

I crouched a little, brushing a tear streak from her cheek. "Okay, peach. Pick whatever you want. Today’s a no-rules day."

She blinked at me, then pointed immediately. "Bubble gum with rainbow sprinkles."

"Of course," I said, pretending to gasp dramatically. "The queen has spoken."

She smiled.

We joined the short line, when the glass door clattered open.

June stormed in like she owned the place.

Her eyes flicked to Alia and instantly softened.

"Baby girl," she gasped, crouching to Alia’s level. "You’ve been crying? Who do I need to fight? Violet? ’Cause I’ve been waiting for the day I can roast her like a Thanksgiving turkey."

Alia actually giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

June smirked. "That’s better. Listen. Girl bosses don’t have to fight like that. We don’t drag hair. We don’t throw hands. You know what we do?"

Alia sniffled. "What?"

"We clap back with words." June snapped her fingers dramatically. " we also don’t waste mascara tears on dusty girls like Violet."

Alia let out the tiniest laugh, peeking at me like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to.

June grinned wider. "Example: Violet says, ’You’re gonna be an orphan,’ right?"

Alia nodded hesitantly.

"So you look her dead in the eye and say, ’At least my breath doesn’t smell like stink

socks.’"

Alia burst into giggles, nearly snorting, and June winked at her like she’d just handed over the Holy Grail.

By the time Alia’s bubblegum ice cream cone was handed across the counter, she was already repeating June’s comebacks, her tongue stained bright blue as we carried everything over to a booth by the window

June leaned back with her cup of strawberry swirl, twirling the spoon. "Rule number one," she told Alia, "you don’t chase people who try to hurt you. You make them chase your confidence."

"Rule number two, when in doubt? Smile. A good smile makes every insult bounce back like a boomerang. Rule number three..."

"Always check if your breath smells like stink socks?" Alia cut in, her eyes started sparkling.

I nearly choked on my own ice cream, and June doubled over laughing. "Oh, she’s a natural! Look at her! Already queen energy!"

The three of us laughed together.

"See?" she smirked. "You overthink too much. She just needed a little chaos."

Alia leaned into June’s side now, happily munching her cone, her earlier tears already melting away with the ice cream.

When she was finally too busy licking blue ice cream off her fingers, June leaned closer to me, her voice dropped low so Alia couldn’t hear.

"Okay," she murmured. "I want the full story about hockey boy and the hickey later. And don’t even try to dodge me. You’re going to tomorrow’s game, right?"

Heat pricked the back of my neck. I glanced away, pretending to focus on Alia’s messy ice cream cone. "...Yeah. I’m going."

June tilted her head, watching me too closely. Then that sly grin crept across her face. "So you’re going to see your man play, huh?"

I nearly dropped my spoon. "June!"

"Oh my God, you are!" She pressed her hand dramatically to her chest, as she leaned closer. "Ash, you’re literally blushing. Are you nervous? Like, what if he looks up at the stands and sees you and suddenly forgets how to skate?"

Alia tilted her head between us, confused but giggling at June’s performance.

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to smile, and muttered, "Thanks... for helping me with Alia today."

June’s grin softened just a little. She reached over, stroking Alia’s hair. "Don’t thank me, dummy. Alia’s my little sister too. Always has been. I’m just doing my job."