Chapter 17 #2
A weird, bubble sensation filled my chest, and it took me a minute to identify the feeling. Hope.
I’d never have the chance to talk to my mom about what she’d done, but maybe I didn’t need to. Maybe I could deal with my own shit and not have history repeat itself over and over.
Maybe I could do things right with Andrew.
“Mase, have you read the paperwork your mom left?”
The bubble popped.
I landed hard back in my own head. “She didn’t leave it. She gave it to her lawyer, who still hasn’t contacted me.”
Taryn’s hand came to rest on my upper abs. “I’m not trying to start a fight, but maybe she left a message for you. Clearly, she intended Andrew to be with you, so she must have known something about your life. Maybe she was keeping an eye on you.”
She was probably trying to make me feel better, but I hated the idea of Mom watching me from a distance without making any contact.
If she was watching—if she spent any time at all observing my life—Mom had to know nothing had changed.
I didn’t get proficient at hiding my injuries until high school.
I didn’t want another note, but how much worse would it be if she left my little brother with me without a single message?
The urge to get up and run made my muscles twitch. I needed to move. I needed to expel the excess energy until I couldn’t come up with any more scenarios highlighting how little Mom cared about me.
Taryn didn’t know. She couldn’t know, and I needed to calm the fuck down.
My stiff back muscles ached, but I tried my best to let the tension go.
“It’s certainly possible she followed me, but I don’t think I want to know.
Grandma Katie’s car had Oregon plates, so I assume Mom still lived somewhere near Portland.
Then again, Grandma Katie isn’t afraid of a little road trip if it gets her out of a responsibility she doesn’t want. Must run in the family.”
At the bitterness in my last words, Taryn sat up and gave me an admonishing stare. “Have you looked at this from your mom’s point of view?”
I studied her face, hovering over me. “What do you mean?”
“Basic math says she was probably pregnant with Andrew when she left. You said you’d just taken a rough beating in order to protect her. She must have been riddled with guilt about how to keep you both safe.”
I snorted. “Yeah, so she split in order to protect the kid she actually wanted.”
“Maybe she thought she was protecting you too. She must have loved you.”
Anger started to slowly build, heating my blood, which resulted in an immediate danger response. I didn’t want to be around Taryn when I was angry.
“She ran.” I shook my head, inching away from her until she lay on the bed by herself. “Love doesn’t act like that. Trauma does.”
“It can be both. Maybe it’s time to forgive the past.”
Fuck. That. My teeth ground together with the effort to keep my angry outburst from escaping. “I’m not interested in forgiveness—or love that comes with stipulations.”
She looked taken aback, as if I were talking about her. Maybe I was. Who was I to know what love was supposed to feel like?
“I have to go.” I was careful to keep the words neutral, a talent I’d learned at a young age, but Taryn hopped out of bed to follow me.
“You don’t have to go.”
“I do. I’m sorry. This was a mistake. Thank Carrie for me. I’ll grab Andrew on the way out.”
“Mase…” Taryn watched me sadly while I packed up mine and Sunny’s things. “At least read the papers.”
It wasn’t her fault. I didn’t expect anyone to understand, only to leave me alone. This whole playing house fantasy had gone on too long. If I was going to be serious about Andrew, I needed to make him my main focus.
Both my parents may have been shitty, but I could do better as long as I didn’t get distracted.
Sunny picked her head up and an irritated huff when I opened the carrier.
I was interrupting her beauty sleep, but she’d have to deal.
A niggling shot of worry wouldn’t let me simply walk out without issuing a last warning.
Sunny would be fine. Taryn would be fine.
She didn’t need me to protect her if I kept Andrew away from her.
The harder part was keeping myself away from her while maintaining my promise to help her feel safe. She didn’t realize it yet, but I was making her safe.
I stopped before entering the hallway, not daring to look back in case I gave in. “If you see him, don’t engage.” I didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask who I meant. “I’ll read the papers today, and I’ll be there for your tournament.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” She started to approach me, but I stepped back.
“I’ll be there,” I repeated.
“Stubborn idiot,” she muttered. Then louder, “You can come over any time.”
There was a stark difference from the last time I’d left when she’d told me she might not open the door if I returned. It made my chest ache with the loss. This girl was so deep inside me I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist the temptation of her offer. But she wasn’t wrong—I could be very stubborn.
“I know,” I said, then closed the door softly behind me.