Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Kash
So many goddamn voices. All the false laughter and pretend cheer. None of it was real. Watching them all, I’d started to become numb. It was the only way I’d managed to get through the past two days. I wasn’t a fucking actor, but both my brothers had missed their calling.
Tomorrow, however, was the last day of this. Christmas would come and go, and then my parents would leave for Texas, where Mom would begin her treatments. Forge had decided that he was staying at the house with me. I didn’t want him here. I wanted to be left alone.
“Kash.” My mother’s voice stopped me. I’d been trying to sneak away after the big family dinner.
“Yeah, Mom?” I asked, turning around.
I hadn’t noticed the weight loss when I first got home or the little things, like how she appeared almost frail.
She was holding on to the banister at the moment, and her knuckles were white from her gripping it so hard.
Had walking up the stairs been that hard for her?
What else was she covering up for our sake?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m good,” I assured her, walking over for my peace of mind in case her legs gave out on her and pulling her into a hug. “I’m good,” I repeated again. “Just needed a little alone time.”
When I pulled back from hugging her, I didn’t let go of her arms. “If you want me down there though, I’ll go. We can head down now.”
She reached up and patted my cheek, as if I were still a little boy. “My beautiful boy,” she said with a soft sad smile. “You never could get away with a lie. Not the way your brothers could. Now, tell me, what has those blue eyes I love so full of sorrow?”
I winced, unable to help it. “Guess I can’t pretend it’s all okay. And I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Let’s go down and watch a Christmas movie.”
She shook her head. “You’re not getting out of this that easy,” she said.
“I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. That fear flashes in your gaze every time you look my way.
But that’s not what I’m talking about. You’re …
lost. I thought getting to come home and stay would make you happy, but you still have that unsettled glint in them.
As if you’re searching. What is it for? Hmm? Do you know?”
I squeezed her arms gently. “You don’t need to waste energy worrying over me. I’m happy that I get to stay.” I couldn’t call it home though.
Yes, this had once been my home. She was once my home. But I had grown up, and my home had changed.
“I will worry about you in this life and whatever comes after. It’s what mommas do. We want our children happy. And you’ve not been truly happy for a long time. But you were once.”
Yeah, I’d been happy once. I’d felt like the fucking king of the world.
“I’m happy to be here with you.” I told her.
She gave a frown that said she didn’t buy my bullshit. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But find what makes you happy and hold on to it. Fight for it.”
I nodded. I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t that easy.
My “happy” had blocked my calls and texts.
She had refused to talk to me. Asked me to let her go if I loved her.
But how was I supposed to do that? I’d walked away four years ago because I thought she’d betrayed me.
My hurt and rage had fueled me. With that stripped away, knowing it was me who had betrayed her, me who had shattered both our worlds, I was being eaten alive by the guilt, regret, and anguish.
“There it is again,” Mom said softly. “The dark shadows in your gaze. That’s what I don’t want to see.”
If I could make it go away, I would, but she was asking me the one thing I couldn’t do for her.
“Come on,” I said, linking her arm in mine. “Let’s go watch a holiday comedy. I want to hear you laugh. That’ll make me happy.”
Her hand covered mine, and she patted it. “All right. But I get to pick the movie,” she told me.
I sighed dramatically. “Fine. But just this once.”
Lying in bed, I stared at the time on my phone, waiting for midnight.
When it came, I texted out, Merry Christmas, Songbird. Then hit Send.
I was positive she’d blocked my number, and I could have used another phone, but she’d only block that one too.
She wanted me out of her life. My immediate instinct was to do exactly what my mother had said to do—fight.
But then I thought about all the pain I’d caused her, and I retreated.
She was my home. My happy. But that didn’t mean I was hers.
I’d destroyed everything else. What if I killed that too?
I started to put my phone down when the ding went off.
Songbird: Merry Christmas, Kash.
Bolting up, I began typing out more and then stopped. I wasn’t blocked, but if I pushed too hard, she may stop responding again.
FUCK! I wanted to call her. Hear her voice.
Slowly, I set the phone down and let go of it. That had to be enough for now. It was something. I could hold on to it. Possibly make it through another day of fake joy.
My bedroom door eased open, and my eyes narrowed, unsure who the hell would be coming in my bedroom this late.
The moonlight from the windows lit up the area well enough that I could make out my mother’s form.
I tossed the covers off and stood up. I’d half expected to see Oz here to remind me to make tomorrow good for her.
This was concerning. She should be in bed.
“Mom?” I asked, walking over to her.
“Merry Christmas,” she said softly.
“Merry Christmas,” I replied, still unsure if this was bad or not. “What are you doing up?”
She held out a small gift bag to me, festively wrapped in red and green paper. “You might be grown, but I’m still Santa Claus.” Her voice was teasing.
We’d made jokes about that growing up. How Dad always looked as surprised as we were over our gifts on Christmas morning. It had been obvious who Santa was when we all found out the truth behind the myth.
“This couldn’t wait until morning? You should be in bed, resting,” I told her, taking it.
Her smile was weak, and that scared the shit out of me.
“Not on my busiest night of the year,” she told me. Still with the Santa jokes. “Open it.” The excited look on her face was almost as if she were the one getting a gift.
I knew whatever she’d brought me wasn’t going to bring me any joy, but I’d do my damnedest to smile for her. Pretend the best I could. She might be making visits to all our rooms tonight with presents. Part of her making this Christmas extra special.
The bag was so light that it felt empty. But I opened it and reached inside, only to find what felt like a postcard. I smiled at her because she looked so fucking giddy and hopeful about the odd gift that I wanted to react the way she was hoping.
When I took it out, there was a holiday scene with a little boy and Santa Claus on one side. I flipped it over after glancing up at her to find her eyes twinkling and her hands clasped to her chest. Dropping my gaze back to the card, I read an address. It was in Ocala, Florida.
“There is something else in the bag,” she told me.
I reached inside and this time found what felt like a gift card or credit card and pulled it out. It was neither. It was a key card. But to where?
Was I getting transferred to fucking Ocala?! Did they think I wanted that?
“Go get her,” Mom urged.
I froze and stared at my mother, processing what she had said. Did she mean …
“Is this …” I was scared to ask. What if I misunderstood?
“Cressida Beck,” mom said. “Go get her. She’s your happy.”
I held up the card. “This is … this is her address?”
She nodded, her eyes glistening and a smile stretching her face. “Yes! The plane is waiting on you at the strip.”
What?
“Are you serious?”
She nodded again, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet now.
“How … Dad … Linc …” I stammered.
She grabbed my hands with her much smaller ones.
“Your dad has been asking me for months what I wanted for Christmas. I just wanted my family happy and together. But you weren’t happy.
You were lost. And I told him that until you were happy, I wouldn’t be.
So, he went to speak to Blaise. Oz went with him.
I got my Christmas wish. Now, go get yours. ”
I stuffed the key and the address into the pockets of my sweatpants, then pulled her into a hug.
“Thank you.” My voice sounded tight. The shitstorm of emotions going through me right now had me on the verge of tears.
“Has Santa ever let you down?” she asked.
I smiled then, but the reminder of her reality only made the influx of feelings worse, and I swallowed hard, holding back a fucking sob.
“No, Momma,” I said, closing my eyes as I held her. “She sure hasn’t.”