More than anything

There is so much more she could say. That she's not her mother, that she knows she can't make up for what Saoirse's lost (or never had). But when Saoirse burrows closer, she finds she can't say any of those things. She probably doesn't need to, anyway; they're the sort of things that go without saying.

More to the point, she wants to make up for it. Wishing is a habit she might be able to break herself of, but wanting, she suspects, is never going anywhere. And she wants to be... whatever Saoirse needs. Even if it ends up breaking her heart, in the end.

"If you ever need mothering," she says carefully, resisting the urge to just say a mother, instead, "you can come straight to me. All right?"