Free Take Me Back by Kelli Maine

That’s all I want. You.”
    Outside, I plop down on a bench in the sun. I can’t explain the rage threatening to let loose, but it’s there in my gut. “Well, if you want me, you fucked up, because I’m not with you, am I? Typically, when you want to be with someone, you don’t send them packing. I realize you’re stunted when it comes to relationships, but that’s one of the basics.”
    I don’t expect to hear you laugh, and it equally fuels my fire and lightens my mood. “That’s better,” you say.
    “That’s better? How is me being upset better?”
    “Because you’re talking to me. You’re telling me you’re upset. That’s more than I’ve gotten all week. You’ve been lost inside your head. I didn’t know what to do to get you back.”
    “Merrick?”
    “Yeah?”
    I take a deep breath and rub my forehead. “You’re right. I have been lost inside my head, but there’s a reason that’s valid to me. The problem is that you don’t see something important to me as valid. That’s why I shut that part off to you, why I snuck off and made excuses for going to the Weston Plantation.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you pull away from me.”
    There’s another long pause that breaks my heart. I open my mouth to say something—anything—when you speak.
    “I’m going to fix this, Rachael. I promise.”
    It’s so like you to think there’s something specific that you can do to fix what’s broken, like it’s a mechanical problem and not an emotional one that has to heal with time and trust.
    “Okay,” I say, because I know that’s your way of telling me you’ll try—you’re in for what needs to be done to make us work again. “I promise, too.”
    I hear your inhale and exhale of relief. “I need to get to the boathouse. I’ll call you later.”
    “Okay.” My chest clenches. “Merrick? I love you.”
    “I love you, my Rachael.”
    I hang up and hold my phone tight. We’ll be okay. This is just another crazy bump in the road that is loving you, Merrick Rocha.

Chapter Fifteen
    Two hours after our late lunch, Mom has me helping her make her mini chicken dumplings. They’re my favorite, and I have a hunch she’s trying to make me gain ten pounds this week. If she bakes angel food cake and ices it with pink frosting, there’s no doubt I will.
    “You know,” Mom says, and the way she says it with a tilt of her head makes me leery of what’s going to come next, “your Aunt Jan’s not the only one who can read you, Rachael. You and I are more alike than you’ve ever thought. I can tell when something isn’t right.”
    She pushes a sheet of wax paper with squares of dough toward me, and I begin spooning the chicken mixture onto the center of each dumpling. “I know, Mom.” She and I are alike, but not as similar as Aunt Jan and me.
    “I have to admit,” she says, leaning one pudgy hip against the counter to face me, “it hurts when you talk to her about things that are bothering you and not me.”
    I drop the spoon. This is the last thing I need right now. “Mom, I’ve always gone to her with my problems, ever since middle school. Why is this a problem all of a sudden?”
    “It’s not a problem.” She pushes her blonde bob behind her ear. “It’s just that I do have experience in relationships, you know. I was married for a long time to your father. If you want to talk about anything—about you and Merrick—I’m here for you.”
    “I know.” I start spooning chicken onto the dumplings again, hoping this conversation is over.
    “Ever since you met him, you’ve been so quiet and secretive about it. When you were dating Lance, you talked about him all the time—what you did, where you went, who you went with—now… not a peep.”
    “Why does everyone want front row tickets to my life all of a sudden?”
    “What?” She puts a hand on my arm. “I’m your mother. That honor comes with front row tickets.” She squeezes then lets go. “I like