Chapter 7 #2
“Maybe. Or maybe I can just tell. Who knows.” I let out a breath. “My mom was an okay mom. I know it’s probably not the greatest thing to say about someone who’s no longer here. But as I remember the years that I had with her, I know that she wasn’t the best mom.”
Perhaps this wasn’t the best conversation for a first date, but Brooke knew some of it, and we had a past. A history. We weren’t starting at square one here.
“Mom drank a lot, did some pot, did a few things that weren’t pot. She liked what she liked, and liked who she liked, and sometimes that wasn’t me.”
“Leif.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t mind talking about it. I spoke about it with my family and with therapists numerous times.” I let out a breath, even as I gave her a self-deprecating smile.
“My mom hid my existence from my dad because she felt like it. Because she wanted the power, and she didn’t want to share me.
She might have made up reasons later for him, but they were lies.
It didn’t matter that she had been dating my dad, and even though my dad had always said that they were casual, he never would’ve just left me alone with her.
As soon as he realized I existed, he dropped everything for me. ”
Brooke pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say something, but held back.
“He went through all the legal hassles and paperwork in order to keep me, even though I had run away from CPS that day, hitching rides in order to get downtown to see him. It made no sense, and I was an idiot ten-year-old, but he took me in.” I smiled at her. “So did my mom, Sierra.”
“Your dad’s wife?”
I shook my head. “Not at the time. They were only dating. Or, I don’t even know if they were really dating then.
Maybe just like one date or something. But she was there when I showed up, and she hasn’t gone away since.
” I cringed. “I call her Mom, and most of the time I think she’s a better mom to me than my mom had ever been.
I know for damn sure she’s a good mom to my three siblings.
And I feel bad about saying that because my birth mom is gone. ”
My birth mom had done things that even my dad didn’t know, he never needed to know. My dad had enough guilt about all that time he lost as it was. He didn’t need anything else on his massive shoulders.
Brooke was quiet for a moment, as if she were trying to formulate a response. “You do have an abundance of family; I’m glad that you have them.”
“I am, too. And Luke will always be happy he has you.” I smiled then, thinking of my family and all they did for me. I tried to be the best son for them, to give back. I wasn’t always, but I figured my track record was better than it could have been.
“You never going to answer what we’re doing, are you?” she asked, after the waiter set down our food.
I looked at my plate, and then up at her, meeting her gaze.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I know that you need to find your roots, to be a good mom, but you can do that while having dinner with me, Brooke.
Because I want to kiss you again. I want to see you again.
But if I’m going to scare you by saying things like that, you have to let me know now. ”
I wasn’t sure why I was saying any of this.
Not when I had shit to do that could crumble everything, but I had told myself I was going to try.
Try to go out and have a future that wasn’t just me working for hours upon hours.
I tried that with my blind date, and yet here was Brooke, my past coming back with a vengeance.
I didn’t ask her about why she hadn’t come before, after Paris. Why she was here now.
This wasn’t the time for that.
It would be, soon.
“You confound me, Leif Montgomery. You make me want to say things and do things that I know I do not have time for.”
I smirked. “It’s what I’m best at, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe.” Her eyes filled with laughter as she said it, though, so I grinned.
“Whatever you say, babe.”
* * *
For the rest of our dinner, we stayed on safe topics: work, friends, and Lake.
When I walked her to her car, I slid her hair behind her ear, trying not to press her against her door and ravish her mouth. I had some standards.
Not many, but some.
“Let me take you out again.”
She shook her head, and disappointment filled me.
“I’m busy, Leif.” She held up her hand as I started to argue.
“I’m not saying no. I’m just saying I have lesson plans, new classes, and research.
I have people to hire and countless other work things.
I have a son, a new house, and boxes I still haven’t unpacked.
I’m doing so much, but I want to see you again, Leif.
I don’t know what that says about me, but I want to. I just don’t know when.”
Relief slammed into me so hard, that I knew I would have to worry about that later.
Instead, I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers.
“I think we can find some time to work with a few of those things. It doesn’t have to be dinner and a movie, Brooke.
It could be me helping you put up a shelf. ”
“Are you saying I can’t put up a shelf by myself?” she asked, teasing.
“See, that’s one of those tripwire questions that women put out that I’m not going to even try to answer.”
She rolled her eyes and I kissed her again.
“Go home to your kid, get some work done if that’s what you’re going to do, and I’ll see you soon. Because there’s something here, Brooke. You know there is.”
I kissed her one more time and walked away before she could say no.
It was probably wrong of me, but I’d do what I had to so I could see her again.
I was just about to start my car when my phone rang and I frowned at the readout, not recognizing the number.
“Hello?”
“Leif Montgomery?” a tired voice asked, and I froze, a sense of foreboding sliding over my body.
“This is him.”
“Sorry for the late call, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you, but we’ve lost some of your paperwork.”
“Who is this?”
“As you’re listed here as a primary contact, we’re to inform you that Roger Erickson has been released on parole.”
Ice slithered into my veins and I swallowed hard. “Excuse me?
“Yes, sorry it took so long to get to you. It was three weeks ago but he is out on parole.”
“How can a murderer get out on parole?” I barked.
“It was all on his paperwork and sentencing. Accidental manslaughter carries a lower sentence. We can email you more information, but as you were a primary contact, we were legally required to inform you.”
The man said a few other things, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I tried to calm my breathing, tried to focus.
As that letter that had come to the tattoo shop crossed my mind again, and bile filled my throat.
My stepdad was out of prison.
And it seemed the past was once again slamming full force into my life.