1. Everly

1

Everly

S unday afternoons were predictable. The old grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, its hands edging closer to one o'clock. I sat at the dining table, a white cloth draped over it, pristine and unblemished. The aroma of roast chicken and vegetables filled the air, a comforting reminder of home.

"Everly, are you sure you don't want to come home for spring break?" My mother's voice broke the silence, carrying a hint of concern as she set a plate in front of me.

I took a bite of chicken, savoring the flavor. "I'm staying on campus, Mom. I told you that."

She sat down across from me, her brow furrowing slightly. "But it's been so long since we had a proper family break together. You always used to love our spring trips."

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. "I have some projects to work on. It's easier if I stay."

Her eyes searched my face for any sign of hesitation. "Projects can wait, sweetheart. You need a break too."

"I know, Mom," I replied, setting my fork down for emphasis. "But it's really important to me to get this done."

She sighed softly, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Well, you know you're always welcome here."

"I appreciate it," I said, forcing a small smile.

Her gaze softened as she reached out to pat my hand gently. "You've grown up so much."

I looked around the room, the familiar sight of framed family photos lining the walls catching my eye. It was comforting and stifling all at once.

"It's not that I don't want to be here," I explained carefully, picking up my fork again. "It's just..." I let my voice trail off. How did I explain to her it was important for me to start figuring things out on my own?

Mom nodded slowly, her eyes moistening but never breaking their hold on mine. She understood more than she let on.

"Well," she said after a moment of silence, her voice brighter but still tinged with sadness, "at least promise you'll call more often?"

"I promise." I smiled genuinely this time.

The conversation lulled as we continued our meal in quiet companionship. The clock ticked away the seconds, each one marking another moment between us—a blend of past and present hanging in the air like the scent of home-cooked meals.

Mom set her fork down and leaned back in her chair, a contemplative look on her face. "I'm glad the old dean left Crestwood. I'm hoping he gets some help for his vices, but he shouldn't be around children."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Mom, Crestwood is a college. There aren't any children attending. We're all adults."

"That doesn't mean he should be around you," she countered, her voice firm. "I'm glad John stepped in to fulfill that role. You know, he worked with your father? He was the assistant coach to the Chicago Honeybears when your father was the trainer. He's a good man."

"I know he's the only reason you even let me apply to Crestwood," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I missed an entire quarter, Mom."

"You did community college classes online," she said dismissively, waving her hand as if that made it all better.

"That isn't the point." I pressed my lips together, feeling my temper flare up. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down before continuing.

The tension hung between us like a thick fog, neither of us willing to break it first. Mom looked at me with that familiar concern that had been there my whole life, like I needed help with everything. She meant well, but it felt like she couldn't see how much I needed space.

"John's looking out for you," she said softly after a moment.

"I know," I replied quietly. "But I need to do things on my own too. I want to do things on my own. Like Holly."

"Holly is… different," Mom said, her tone cautious. "She's a smart girl, but she was raised in the public school system."

"Mom, there's nothing wrong with the public school system," I countered, my voice firmer than I intended. "In fact, it's a good indicator of socialization, developing relationships, and being exposed to different cultures and classes. Unlike homeschooling—" I stopped myself, clenching my teeth together. The last thing I wanted was to start another argument about my upbringing.

I sighed and looked down at my hands. "I appreciate that you were able to stay home and teach me. I know how lucky I am. Truly, I do. But me going to college isn't a bad thing, Mom. It's not like I can stay home forever."

Her eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of pride and worry. "I know you can't stay home forever, Everly. It's just hard to let go." She paused, her voice softening. "I've always tried to protect you from the world out there. It's not… it's not a kind place. Not like you. I would hate for it to take that away from you."

"It won't," I insisted. "I promise."

Her eyes searched mine again, trying to find some understanding in what I was saying. "You've always been so independent."

"Maybe," I admitted, looking down at my plate. The chicken didn't seem as appetizing anymore. "But it's more than that now. It's about growing up and making my own decisions. It's about you trusting me."

She sighed and reached across the table to squeeze my hand gently. "I just want what's best for you."

"I know," I whispered, squeezing back.

The clock chimed the hour, breaking the silence that had settled over us like a heavy blanket. It was a reminder that time kept moving forward, no matter how much we tried to hold onto the past.

Mom gave me a small smile and stood up from the table. "Dessert?"

I nodded, grateful for the change in topic. Sometimes it was easier to let things go unspoken.

She brought out a slice of apple pie and set it in front of me. As I took a bite, the familiar taste brought back memories of simpler times—before college applications and missed quarters and difficult conversations.

For now, we could enjoy this moment together.

"So, how's school?" she asked, sitting back down and folding her hands in her lap.

I perked up at the question, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "It's great, actually. I'm really enjoying my classes this quarter. I have finals this week, and then it's spring break, and then we start spring quarter before summer."

Her eyes lit up with curiosity. "What classes are you taking?"

"Well, there's History," I began, leaning forward slightly. "I love diving into different eras and seeing how they shaped our present. Plus, Professor Jenkins is amazing. He makes everything come alive with his storytelling."

"That sounds fascinating," she said, nodding. "And what else?"

"English Literature," I continued. "We're covering some really interesting authors this semester. I've always loved reading, so it's like a dream come true to discuss books with people who are just as passionate."

"I remember how you used to devour books," Mom said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, some things never change," I admitted with a grin. "Then there's Statistics. It's challenging but in a good way. It feels like solving puzzles."

She raised an eyebrow. "Statistics? That doesn't sound like you."

"I know, right?" I laughed. "But it's actually pretty cool once you get the hang of it. And last but not least, there's Psychology 1. Learning about how the mind works is fascinating."

"Psychology?" she echoed, her interest piqued.

"Yeah, it's one of my favorites," I said enthusiastically. "Understanding why people behave the way they do—it's like unlocking secrets about humanity. Especially since…"

I let my voice trail off. I didn't tell her I took the class to learn more about people since I didn't get that opportunity growing up. I didn't want her to feel bad about the choices she made for me. I knew it was done in good faith. Everything she did for me was because she wanted to protect me.

Mom looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking again. "And all these classes... they're part of your plan to become a teacher?"

"Exactly," I nodded eagerly. "I want to teach elementary school someday."

She smiled warmly at me. "You'd make an excellent teacher, Everly. You've always had such a passion for learning and sharing knowledge. The kids would be lucky to have you."

"Thanks, Mom," I said softly, feeling a swell of pride in my chest.

We continued eating our pie in comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

"You seem really happy," she observed.

"I am," I replied sincerely. "College has been tough at times, but it's also been incredibly rewarding."

"And how is Holly?" Mom asked.

I chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the room. "Well, I'm sure it's hard with her dad as dean of our school. But luckily, we're dormed right next to each other."

"I made sure John arranged that," she said, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.

"Yes, I know," I replied, smiling at her. "She still wants to be a psychologist and help people. We're actually in Psych together, which makes things convenient because when I get back to campus today, we're going to study some more."

Mom's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is she… is she dating anyone?"

"No," I shook my head. "She's focused on school."

"Good," she said, setting down her silverware with a firm clink. "After that debacle in high school?—"

"Mom," I interrupted, my voice sharper than intended. "You don't have to bring that up."

"I think it's important to remind you what's out there," she insisted, her gaze unwavering. "Everly, there are monsters in this world. Real monsters. You can't just go around… trusting everyone. The world… it's not a kind place."

I looked down at my hands again, the weight of her words pressing on me like a physical force. She meant well; I knew that. But sometimes it felt like she saw danger in every shadow.

"I understand," I said quietly, meeting her eyes again. "But what happened to Holly… That doesn't mean it's going to happen to me."

"Anything can happen to you," Mom pointed out.

"Yes, but it's true the other way too," I said. "You know that, right? Bad things can happen, sure, but so can good things. Why would I want to focus on the bad when I could focus on the good?"

Mom's expression softened slightly, but the concern never left her eyes. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," I replied.

She nodded, seeming to accept my answer for now. The conversation shifted to lighter topics as we finished our dessert, but her words lingered in the back of my mind like an echo.

As much as I appreciated her protective nature, I couldn't help but feel a growing desire to prove that I could navigate the world on my own terms.

After all, wasn't that what growing up was all about?

"I take it you're focused on school?" Mom asked tentatively before taking another bite of pie.

"If this is your way of asking if I'm dating, the answer is no," I said, feeling a little defensive.

Not yet , I amended in my head. I'd watched so many shows and read countless books about love. I wanted that butterfly feeling, the fairytale, the happily ever after. I wanted my first kiss, my first…everything with the right person—a Prince Charming.

I wanted to have sex. I wanted to know what that was like, if it really felt as good as in the books or in the movies. A physical manifestation of that pure love.

My heart fluttered just thinking about it.

Mom chewed thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving my face. "You know, it's not just about avoiding distractions," she began carefully. "It's also about being safe."

"I know," I replied, my voice softening. "And I'm careful."

She reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I just worry about you, Everly."

"Trust me, I know," I said, forcing a smile. "But I'm eighteen now. I need to figure some things out for myself."

She nodded slowly but didn't look entirely convinced. We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the clock ticking away on the wall.

I didn't tell her how much I longed for love because I knew she wouldn't approve. She saw danger everywhere and would never understand my yearning for romance and adventure. But still... I wanted to be loved and to love more than anything.

"You know," she said finally, her voice softer now, "I met your father when I was just a little older than you are now."

I perked up at this rare glimpse into her past. "Really?"

"Yes," she continued, a small smile playing at her lips. "We were both so young and so full of dreams. But it wasn't always easy."

"I can imagine," I said, genuinely interested.

She sighed softly and looked out the window as if seeing something far away. "Your father was perfect. He loved you so much. He'd be so proud of you. But not everyone is your father, Everly. Not everyone will treat you right. I don't want…" She looked away, a flicker of something sad lighting her eyes. "I don't want you to experience that. Heart break."

"Mom, I can't help if I do," I said. "That's just life, isn't it? Another step in finding the right one who won't break your heart. Isn't that what Dad did for you?"

"Dad was my first everything," she said with a wistful smile. "I suppose I was lucky in that way. But remember, Everly, it's not all like in the books and movies."

"I know," I replied, though deep down, I still hoped for my own fairytale romance.

Mom stood up and began clearing the dishes from the table. "Just promise me you'll wait," she said over her shoulder. "Love isn't all that it's cracked up to be, you know."

"I…" I let my voice trail off. In my heart, I couldn't help but dream of love's grand adventures awaiting me out there in the world beyond our little dining room.

I couldn't make that promise because doing so would make it a lie.

As we finished tidying up together, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics—my upcoming exams and summer plans—but that unspoken desire for more lingered in my mind like an echo of possibility.

"Well," Mom said, her voice thick with emotion, "I suppose it's time to head back."

"Yes," I agreed, trying to keep my own emotions in check. "Thank you for lunch, Mom. I appreciate it."

"Are you sure I can't change your mind about coming home for break?"

I stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. The familiar scent of her lavender perfume enveloped me, bringing a wave of nostalgia. "I'll be home for summer," I promised, squeezing her tightly.

She sighed deeply, her arms wrapping around me like a safety net she was reluctant to release. For a moment, it felt like she wasn't going to let go. Her grip tightened as if she could somehow keep me safe from the world by holding on just a little longer.

Finally, she pulled back, her eyes watery and filled with unspoken words. "All right," she said softly. "Let's go."