Chapter 18 #2
Mom’s eyes lit up with sudden hope. “Do you think the university would give his tuition back? We need every penny right now.” She gestured vaguely at our surroundings with her wineglass, nearly sloshing Cabernet onto the cream-colored sofa.
“Everything’s frozen until after the trial, but once your father comes home…
” Her voice trailed off as she took another deep swallow of wine, the liquid disappearing in one desperate gulp.
“Lucas already used that money for Ian’s schooling,” I said, my words coming out sharp enough to cut.
Right on cue, Mom’s face contorted into her signature performance—shoulders heaving with sobs that somehow never produced a single tear. Ian caught my eye, one eyebrow raised slightly. We’d seen this show before, her go-to escape whenever reality threatened the fantasy world she’d constructed.
“He’s guilty, Mom. You realize that, don’t you?”
The words tumbled out as I stood, harsher than I’d intended.
Part of me wanted to collapse beside her, offer comfort, promise better days ahead—all the things a son should say.
But why start now? When had she ever been the mother who bandaged wounds or soothed nightmares?
Her expertise had always been in maintaining facades, not families.
She’d been more like a distant aunt who shared our address than someone who raised me. Our mansion had been a museum—cold, curated, untouchable.
But I had warmth waiting for me elsewhere now.
“He’s a fraud. A cheater. A terrible father and an even worse husband,” I said, my voice climbing the octaves I usually kept controlled. “It’s time to start planning a life without him. He’s going to spend the rest of it in prison.”
Mom placed her wineglass down with a delicate touch. She rose to her feet, swaying slightly.
Her eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering across her face.
Then her palm connected with my cheek, the sound like a champagne cork in our silent house.
The crack snapped through the room, sharp and sudden, and my head jerked to the side. Heat bloomed across my cheek. I tasted copper where my teeth had caught the inside of my lip.
For a second, the world went quiet.
I had always known who she was. I had accepted it years ago, learned to expect distance, indifference, the careful coldness she wrapped around herself like armor.
But this? This felt like betrayal.
I looked back at her slowly, my cheek still burning, something colder than anger settling in my chest.
“Right,” I said, nodding once, my lips pressed tight. “I guess that tells me exactly how much you love your kids compared to your sad excuse of a husband.”
I stepped out of her reach.
“I won’t be here for the holidays, Mother. Maybe never again. This place was never home, anyway.” My voice steadied, even as my chest tightened. “I have one now. With the two guys I’m in love with.”
Her face froze, shock replacing anger as if someone had thrown ice water over her carefully constructed reality.
I had wanted to tell her differently. Somewhere calm, somewhere quiet. I had wanted a real conversation, something honest, something that might prove she cared.
But she had made her answer clear.
“Wait, Beckett,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I’m just… stressed. Everything is falling apart.”
“Stop, Mom.” I cut her off before she could continue. “There’s no excuse for slapping me because I told you the truth. None.”
Ian rose to his feet and moved toward the front door. I trailed behind him, each step away from her like taking my first real breath after years of drowning.
“Beckett, please,” she pleaded from the couch. “I can’t lose you too. You’re right. He’s not coming back. I just… I didn’t want to see it. That’s why I’ve been drinking. I’m nothing without your father.” Her voice shrank. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
I stopped near the doorway, but didn’t turn around.
“You never had me, Mom,” I said quietly. “You never treated me like your child. You always chose him over us.”
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, forcing the words out before they could break.
“I’m going back to campus. I’ve got two boyfriends waiting for me.”
The word settled into my chest like a truth I hadn’t fully admitted until now.
Boyfriends.
We had never officially said it, never sat down and labeled anything, but it fit. It felt right. We were already exclusive, already tangled together in every way that mattered. I didn’t want anyone else.
They were my family.
And I didn’t care if mine rejected me for it.
I had wanted her to say she was happy for me. Just once. Just a simple, I’m proud of you or I’m glad you found people who love you.
But that was a wish meant for a different mother.
I stepped outside without looking back. I touched my sensitive cheek when she no longer watched; the memory stinging more than the slap. I wasn’t fully coherent, but I was there enough to understand my brother’s offer to drive. I handed him the keys.
If the government didn’t take the house, I almost hoped it burned down, along with every memory of a childhood I had here.