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He reeled back as if she’d swung at him. “How can you say that? After all I have done for you?”

She schooled her face back to neutral, but anger still seethed beneath the surface. “What have you done for me that isn’t about football, Dad?”

“I—” he stopped short. “You should be more grateful.”

“You should learn some compassion.”

With that, she swept from the room.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, following her.

Jamie trotted quickly up the stairs. “I’m going to visit my mother. Alone.”

“Fine,” he snapped, stopping at the bottom. “But don’t go upsetting her. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I won’t have any disturbances in my house!”

She didn’t answer. She only continued her flight up the stairs and retreated down the hall. She stopped at the door she knew to be her mother’s. The main bedroom. Her parents slept separately now, as her father had taken to the guest room. Jamie raised her hand and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

“Come in, Katie,” a weak voice called from the other side.

Jamie turned the knob and stepped through. “It’s me, Mum. Sorry.”

Natalie Hupp lifted her head. She was where Jamie got most of her looks. Her hair was the same chocolaty brown, though it had lost its former luster. Her eyes were a lighter shade of blue, but they were blank behind her irises. Jamie almost flinched at her mother’s protruding cheekbones and gaunt face, but she resolved herself. She needed to have this conversation.

“Jamie?” Natalie croaked.

“Yeah. Is it alright if I visit with you?”

“Of course.”

Jamie pulled up a wingback chair and sat at her mother’s bedside. Up close, she could see more of Natalie’s frailty. Her collarbones were visible through her nightgown. Enough pill bottles sat on the bedside table to supply a whole pharmacy. Jamie reached for the first bottle, but didn’t recognize the medication.

“You’re taking all of these, Mum?” she asked.

“Yes. They keep me safe.”

Jamie set the bottle back down. “I suppose so. Are you alright?”

“As alright as I can be,” Natalie sighed.

Every visit was like this. It was why Jamie avoided it. It seemed too cruel that her mother should grieve for this long. She wondered if what her mother needed was someone like Lila to help her through her grief. Maybe then she wouldn’t be on a diet of whatever was coming out of the orange bottles. Not that Jamie was against medication, but her mother was once a vibrant woman. Medication was supposed to make her better, not sink her further into depression.

“How are you, Jamie?” Natalie asked.

“I’m alright,” Jamie answered. “Mostly training and matches. The usual.”

“Are you still with City? Or have they let you come home for a visit?”

It occurred to Jamie that she had not seen her mother at all during the three years she was in Manchester. Guilt gnawed through her belly.

“Oh, no, Mum, I’m back in London now. I’m playing for Stanmore,” she said. “Sorry, I should have mentioned that sooner.”

“S’alright.”

It didn’t feel alright. And there was much more that Jamie wanted to talk about. Things a daughter should be able to discuss with her mother. Her relationship, her job, her progress in therapy. It didn’t seem right to burden Natalie with all of that, though. Not in this state.

“I thought Dad might have told you.”

“He hardly tells me anything anymore.”