callmeemily: ([with] forehead kiss)
Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins ([personal profile] callmeemily) wrote 2014-09-01 09:10 am (UTC)

Her shoulders tighten up when he says Joel told him about the letter, and for just a moment - for one moment, she's angry, she's angry at Joel because she didn't want him to know, didn't want Spencer to know. She didn't want Spencer to know, now, and she prays, she prays that he didn't read it to him, that he didn't see it, and he understood. That he understood why she was scared, that he understands why she didn't write it to him. "I'm sorry." It's a quiet apology, one that's heartfelt and full of emotion, and she only looks up at him after she says it.

What he says - what he says about it being hard, about how he has one person that he doesn't have to hide from, her heart sinks. It sinks, because even as he offers to be that person, she knows - she knows that she can't. It's not that she doesn't trust him, it's that she doesn't want to put that burden on him. It's why she wrote that letter to Joel, not to Spencer. As ridiculous as it sounds, she needs to keep him safe. That's her gut, that's what's talking right now. She needs to keep Spencer safe, the last thing she wants is him worrying about her.

It's like the library. She taped her hand together, she took care of the glass, she found Joel. She did what she could, because she wanted to take care of him, because he's her family and she needed to. She doesn't want to ever force him to carry the burden that she carries about herself, even though if she was more mature, she'd realise that her trusting him with that wasn't necessarily a burden on him. Still, she nods all the same, and she has to swallow hard, looking up in surprise as he calls her doctor. It doesn't fit, she thinks. It feels like it doesn't fit, and she agrees with him; It's good that she's doing something that makes her happy, and she hesitates, and clears her throat. "I was telling Joel, I could see myself with kids, here. With a little girl sitting on the counter while I teach her to make Linzers."

She looks away, and it's so hard. It's so hard to think of the future, sometimes, when you're not sure if it'll ever come true, and it's just... hard. It's difficult, and her shoulders slump. "I wouldn't change it," she agrees quietly. "I wouldn't change that it's me that got that ad for your mom. If I knew what I knew now... I'd just stop the bad things from happening, as much." That's it. That's the important thing.


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