What if it all could be up to me?

Sometimes, Michael tries to pretend that he’s cool and doesn’t need his mom to be a shoulder to cry on when he’s losing it.

Today is not that day.

Because he’s losing it in a way that only Lucy Emerson can fix.

So Michael bounds forward and throws himself into his mother’s arms, the sobs from his throat loud and shaky.

“You promise…?”

Even with the circumstances of what happened, she couldn't help but feel some guilt.

The ginger gently squeezed the other's hand. She had to tell her. She wanted to back then, but the time was never right. "Lucy...."

"Rose... you mean the world to me," Her voice was soft, just as serious but so gentle too. "Whatever you have to tell me... that's never going to change. No matter what it is..."

She took a deep breath and let it out slow.

"things always get misplaced by the time the night shift has to switch in for dayshift, I swear I don't know what they're doing during the last hour"

He didn't mind at all looking for the volunteer papers for Lucy, it was much certainly better than having to be on the phone until the night time charge nurse came in to switch with dayshift.

She'd certainly seen that to be true across the jobs she'd worked.

"Do you like working nights here?" Maybe that was a little nosy, but she couldn't help but be curious. "I'm sure it must be different from the day time and come with it's own challenges. I almost wish they'd let us volunteers stay a little later, I think it would do some people good to have the extra care in the quiet hours too."

“𝕬nd he does make the right decisions!” David claps eagerly, like Lucy was finally getting it…what he’s been trying to tell her all night. “…Hanging out with us…is good for him.”

He pointed at her. “You’ll see…” And he meant it when he said it, soon Mrs. Emerson would see the clearer picture of it all. “I just want him to be happy.” The vampire said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world to him and it should be for her too. “Dontcha want to see the life return to those soulful brown eyes you raised?”

Even in just that one interaction David had already seen Michael so clearly…what he was going through but didn’t show. How it echoed his own life…Boys who haven’t been hurt by this world don’t act like that-standoffish…angry and on edge…eager to please when it came down to it.

He knew the woman wasn’t ever really gonna trust him around her son. It didn’t matter. In his eyes, she must’ve let him down before to make him this way, even if he didn’t know all the details of it yet.

“Couldn’t agree with you more.” He waved his hand around. “Neither could anything ever come between me and my brothers.” The blonde smiled. “Family’s stronger than a couple fights,” David’s fist moves in front of his face. “Ah…right?” He snaps his fingers, turning back around to grab another tape to “take a look at” “Family’s forgive each other, don’t they? Even when they mess up…Sure Sam can forgive Michael for the people he hangs out with.”

David couldn’t fight the chuckle that escaped his lips. “Everyone matters to someone? Oh, that’s sweet…Nothing sweeter than that!” He wiped a fake tear from his eye, Michael’s mom must’ve had the softest heart of anyone he’s ever known or was a hippie. Boy, did he remember the hippies-“We both know that’s not true, Lucy.”

“Like I said, people in this town like to get lost, go missing-walls of missing posters. Heard it’s been 32 this year.” He whistled. “Better to assume…if you don’t come back into work after a while you’re not coming back.” The blonde pretends to dust something off the tape with his hand. “Pete’s just another casualty of the town…’The Murder Capital of the World’ if ya buy into that shit. I never have.” His smile stretches wider, like he was talking about the weather and not the possible deaths of other people. “Locals and tourists alike disappear and nobody remembers them, life moves on…and that’s it.”

“Just an old friend…” David hummed quietly, dodging the question. “Used to be closer.” Didn’t think he should tell her more than that. That there was ever a time where the two of them got along better than they did now. Not that the guy in glasses took to being called “friend” even as a cover story for his sire he was bound to.

“Saw you two together that night…Getting cozy with the boss?” His brows arched in suspicion, deflecting the conversation away from Max and their history.

"...I think that's something we can both agree on," She said, her tone more gentle than before. "Michael deserves to be safe and happy. That's all I could ever want for him."

She wouldn't say anything further than that unless he said more. God forbid she was wrong in what she was thinking, the results could be mortifying and dangerous for her and Michael both.

The rapid movement of his fist jolted her back from her thinking and nearly caused her to flinch.

"Of course Sam would," The two looked different enough that the relation wasn't obvious at first glance, and more than once Michael's friends hadn't realized just who they had chosen to mess with. "But out of the two of them Sam's never been the one to hold a grudge. But I can't say that Michael's ever been quick to forgive anyone who messes with his brother."

That laugh and his mocking hurt her heart. But, with what she was suspecting, she could understand how the world could have turned someone so young so cold. She tried not to take her cruelty personally.

"That isn't it though..." She again met his coldness with gentle warmth. "People do remember. Our first night here, I ran into a woman who's husband went missing. She's out there looking for him and hanging up more posters every day. And Pete... I'll remember him. I'd been looking forward to working with him, to getting to know him. People move on, sure, they don't have another choice, but that doesn't mean they don't remember. If Sam or Michael were to go missing, I could never forget them, and I know they'd do the same for me. And I'm sure your brothers would feel the same way about you."

Oh... oh. She'd have to be having a conversation with Max. Some of his statements had already raised some red flags, but most she was willing to talk through and work out. There were some things, though, that she drew a hard line on.

"Just a walk, nothing else to it," She said with a sigh. Sure, Max was incredibly charming, kind and sweet toward her, but she was nowhere near ready for something serious yet. "He was showing me around to help get reacquainted with everything here. Michael's not the only one who could use a friend right now, after all."

Maybe something would bloom between her and Max, but too, maybe it wouldn't. It was far too early to say, but regardless, she was thankful to have him as a friend.

It feels…welcoming, to have this woman genuinely want to talk to Aspen. Her mother, despite owning a business on the same boardwalk, only converses with Aspen when she absolutely needs to. Somehow, there’s some odd sense of separation between them that’s existed since Aspen’s accident. Like her mother still spites her for the cost of her recovery.

The woman’s compliment on her coffee is unexpected. “Best latte you’ve ever had? Well, damn, either you’ve been drinking really shitty coffee your whole life or I’ve suddenly become a latte-making master.”

Ironically, despite working in a coffee shop, Aspen’s had pretty minimal experience trying drinks from other cafes. She’s not sure how her coffee compares, she supposes. Honestly, she kind of just thought it was there to serve the purpose of caffeinating people.

“I didn’t really learn, per se. I guess I’ve always been a bit of an improvisational artists, one way or another.” She fills her own mug and takes a sip from her espresso. It’s bitter and steaming; a perfect wake-up call. “Used to be a musician. Well, I guess I still kind of am. Just…not with any designated group. I play alto sax. Was part of a jazz band in college…” she trails off. She’s nearing heavy territory.

But for some reason, there’s a weird sense that she can be vulnerable with this woman.

“…we did a lot of improv gigs. They’d load us into a jazz club or a restaurant and we’d just…play shit. Didn’t have any song or anything. Just notes and beats. God, I was fully convinced I was gonna do that for the rest of my life.” She’s getting into it now, against her own will? Honestly.

She’s just kind of rambling now. She feels a phantom ache in her nonexistent right calf.

She'd had more than her fair share of those kinds of mornings.

"Still, don't say I didn't warn you." If she truly didn't mind, than Lucy would absolutely take her up on the opportunity to have someone to talk to.

As the barista spoke, Lucy listened. Truly listened. Even having just met her, she cared about this young woman's story, about her experiences and what she was saying. It was something that she valued deeply and always tried to do. If people were willing to tell their story, Lucy believed wholeheartedly that it was important to listen.

"That honestly sounds incredible," She gave her a warm smile. "To get to play gigs and just sort of... go with it? Letting the music take you where it wants to and just playing what you feel? That's the best way to do it. Written stuff is good, sure, but when someone is just playing from their soul? There's nothing like it."

She could remember so many nights just sitting around a fire, listening to others play, sometimes even playing herself, and just letting the music guide them. It'd been a long, long time since she'd heard anyone play like that.

It seemed like they were in the same boat in that sense.

"I know how that feels though, life getting in the way..." It made her sad to hear that she had lost that, that something had happened to take her off that path. "I'm sorry that things shifted for you. But... there's nothing to say that you might get the chance to go back to it one day. That's what's got me here right now, after all, life's path bringing me back to where I started."

She sipped her coffee, savoring the warmth and comfort that it brought. Though a sudden realization nearly sent her sputtering.