15. Van
Van
S ervice on the bay was too spotty for the repeated calls to get through, despite calling several times.
When we got back, I paid the exorbitant fee to dock my boat in a guest slip.
Summer followed me to the truck, and I helped her up into the cab, then dialed again to be sent to voicemail.
I need you.
I need you.
Cursing under my breath, I got behind the wheel, and we took off.
I pictured her lying on the floor, her wheelchair across the room. Bleeding from a head injury. Would she have called 9-1-1 if she was hurt? She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.
“So, what, you’re ditching me for some random girl? Was my hand job not enough for you?” she asked, her arms folded over her chest.
“Your what?” I blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Whoever that girl you have of your roster that just hit you up. I saw it. I need you. If you want to fuck around with some girl, just tell me. Saves me the embarrassment of fucking you when you have a dozen others lined up.”
“You think—” I tried to process her odd jealousy. “That was my mom.”
“Oh.” The fight vanished. “Well—” Her cheeks flamed pink. “How was I supposed to know that?”
I snorted, turning the car to the right. “You could have asked.”
“Oh yeah, like you’d tell me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She blinked at me as if I were speaking another language. “I can come with if you want. That way you don’t have to battle rush-hour traffic downtown to get me home.”
“You want to meet my mom?” I raised a brow.
“I’m great with parents. Mothers love me. One of my exes? His mom still sends me a Christmas card every year.”
The last girl I had brought around my mom was my prom date. A shy redhead who ended up leaving the dance with her girlfriends halfway through. I later found out she had an older boyfriend her parents didn’t approve of.
“Alright.” I turned toward the other side of town.
I let myself in the door, prepared for a bloodbath of her sprawled on the floor and howling in pain.
Instead, I found her on her back patio watering her favorite red geranium.
“Mom.”
She glanced up at me, setting the water can by her side, and her face broke into a wide smile, her gray eyes so similar to my own, wrinkling at the corners. “Donovan, what are you doing here?”
Waving my phone around, I scoffed. “You texted me I need you. I came as soon as I saw it.”
Mom furrowed her brow, turning in her chair. “I said I need you to pick up more of those mint chocolate balls next time you go to the store. I ate them all last night while binge-watching that show with the underwear model chef.”
Ignoring her lusty comments about men half her age, I retorted, “No, you said I need you. I called you four times, trying to get through.”
Once inside, she grabbed her phone off a side table and scrolled through it. “I’ll be damned.” She glanced up and grinned. “Well. You’re here now. How about you introduce me to this lovely lady who’s hovering around you, looking confused?”
Behind me, Summer tapped her nails against each other on one hand but fisted her hands once before stepping forward and thrusting the other out.
“Hi, I’m Summer. Nice to meet you—” She glanced at me, probably confused by what name my mom went by.
My mom took her hand in hers, covering it with both hands. “Glyndon Logan. Call me Glyn.”
Summer’s smile got wider.
“Glyn. It’s so great to meet you. Van has told me so many things about you.”
Mom glanced over at me, a mischievous glint on her face. “Has he? Well, come have a seat while he makes us some coffee, and tell me everything you’ve heard.”
As Summer settled into the floral print couch, she angled her legs to face my mom, who parked herself beside the couch.
Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I watched as Summer asked my mom about the show she was watching the night before.
A few minutes later, Mom glanced at me and frowned. “Where’s our coffee, Donovan?”
My cheeks heated, and Summer bit her lip to force back a smile.
“Right away.”
Once in the kitchen, I grumbled to myself as I rummaged her cabinets.
Everything had to be low for my mom to access independently, so I had to stoop.
Through the small cutaway between the kitchen and living room, I listened as Summer was telling her about her job at the hotel. Mom described the last time we went to a restaurant and how difficult it was for her to maneuver around the tightly packed tables with her chair. Summer nodded and laughed when Mom mentioned she had bumped a chair and caused a meatball to roll across the floor because the server wouldn’t help her through a tight spot.
“Serves them right.” Summer agreed. “If I were you, I would have flattened the meatball into the carpet with my wheel.”
“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted.”
Holding two mugs of coffee, I came out of the kitchen and set them down for the ladies.
I sat beside Summer on the couch, my arm alongside the back, fingers dangling above her shoulder.
Mom sipped from the mug, grimaced, then set the drink down. “Sweetie, you know I love you, but you really need to learn how to make a decent cup of coffee. This is like sex in a canoe.”
Beside me, Summer blinked as if trying to make sense of that comment.
I groaned, then whispered, “Fucking too close to water.”
“Damn straight,” Mom barked before taking another sip and setting it down on the side table. “It’ll do for now, though. Now, tell me how you two met.” She narrowed her eyes, assessing me. “Let me guess, it was about six weeks ago? Am I right?”
Summer sucked in a breath between her teeth and glanced at me in surprise. “Did you—”
“No, I didn’t say a thing.” Somehow, my mother was as shrewd as ever.
I shook my head. “Mom.”
“I am, aren’t I?” She clapped her hands together in triumph. “I knew a little something was going on. A mother knows these things. Tell me, tell me. This place gets so boring.”
With a raised brow, I shot Summer a glance. “Go ahead. I’d love to hear you tell the story.”
Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she seemed to be considering how much truth she wanted to tell and tapped her nails together before fisting her hands. “I ended up in the neighborhood, for reasons that aren’t important.” She shot me a warning glare. “And it started raining, so I sought refuge in Van’s—oops—I guess it’s your house. Only the door was unlocked, so I kind of let myself in. Van found me in the hallway as I waited for my ride. I’m lucky he didn’t call the cops on me.”
“I’m still considering it.”
Strictly speaking, Summer told the truth about our first meeting, but there was something more. She said it wasn’t important why she was in the neighborhood, but no way was that the case. I didn’t need to know her life story if she didn’t want to tell it. But a part of me, at the very least, wanted to know that whatever I got from her was true.
I saw her that day, and the more I got to know her, the more I could tell she had been through something upsetting. I was no detective, but every day spent with her, it was getting easier to put the pieces together in a muddy narrative.
Mom raised a brow at the story but didn’t question Summer.
Summer’s phone rang, and she excused herself onto the back patio.
The sliding door hadn’t been shut for more than a second before my mom said, “You really like this girl.”
Leaning back against the couch, I scowled at her. “It’s not serious.”
“Not serious. You brought her here, didn’t you?”
“Because I thought you had an emergency. It wasn’t intentional.”
Mom hummed in disagreement. “Don’t act like you aren’t crazy about that girl. I see the way you look at her. Reminds me of my younger years.”
“Sorry if I don’t trust your judgment, since the last person you dated was Rick,” I retorted, then cursed myself for the comment. Scrubbing my face with my hand, I rested my elbows on my knees.
“You’re not your father, Donovan. Rick was— is —a complicated man. I knew that when I married him.”
“And yet you stayed. After everything he did.”
Mom pointed at me, her tone sharp. “You don’t get to judge me for my choices. Your father is not evil, just weak. He couldn’t handle my sickness, so he pulled away. It happens.”
I snorted. “Right. Just like how he fell into his assistant’s vagina.”
Mom quirked a smirk at that comment. “He’s not perfect. But no one is. But I made mistakes, too.”
“Don’t make excuses for him.”
“I’m not. I knew who I married. Did you know that tart he’s been dating wants to marry him?”
I blinked at this news, trying not to let it hurt.
Until she said the words, I hadn’t recognized the little spot inside me that wished my parents would’ve stuck together.
“But he won’t do it. Not while his insurance is covering my care. We might not love each other anymore, but your father is not the monster you’re making him out to be. It’s not black and white. He may have missed the faithful part of the vows, but he’s supporting me in his own way.”
“I’m not forgiving him. In my opinion, he abandoned you.”
Mom shrugged. “And you came home to me. I’ve made my peace with your father. Lord knows I would never want to be married again, washing another man’s dirty socks? No, thank you. But this way, at least, I’m provided for. You don’t have to forgive him. That’s between you two. But don’t hold on to that anger on my behalf. I’m happy here.” She hesitated, a teasing grin spreading. “Though, if you wanted to make me truly happy, you’d find someone like that cute Summer to settle down with. I need some grandkids already.”
“That’s not likely.” I glanced at Summer, who was still on the phone, laughing and waving dramatically.
Since eighteen, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about settling down. From the first date to hookups, I was clear I wouldn’t get serious with them. It was easier than having mixed-up feelings later and disappointing what would often be a great woman. I had told Summer the same thing. And yet. And yet—
Why did this pull toward her feel different? In the safety of my mom’s presence, I could admit I was thinking about Summer far more than I should’ve been. When I read an interesting fact on the back of the cereal box, my first thought was I bet Summer already knows that. When I watched our favorite show, I had to pause and wonder what Summer thought when Sam left the White House to move back to California. The roses in my yard bloomed wide, the same shade of pink as her lips after I kissed her.
She was invading my days. As for the nights. After that time on the boat, I would be thinking about her.
“It better be. You’re too old to be playing these games, Van. Time to grow up.” Her tone softened. “It’s okay to be vulnerable with someone.”
“I know that.”
My tone was sharper than I meant, but Mom didn’t react.
Hesitating, I opened my mouth, then closed it. “But what if—” I swallowed hard.
“You know you’re nothing like your father, right?”
Blinking, I studied her face.
How could she see me clearly?
“Your father was always a little selfish, with money, with his time, in bed.”
“Mom!” I gagged at the thought.
“But you have never been like that. You used to be so sweet, offering to make me toast every morning, burning it half the time. I saw you with your girlfriends in high school. Remember how you got that job at the grocery store just so you had enough to take that girl out on dates? Then, after you found out about your father’s infidelity, it was as if something broke in you. I’d ask you about girls, and you never had someone. At first, I thought it was just the college years. No big deal. But then you’re twenty-five, then twenty-eight. Now, here you are, thirty-two.”
“I know how old I am,” I grumbled.
“Love isn’t a task. It’s not something you take apart to find out how it works. You can do every step exactly right, and something can still go wrong. People get sick.” She motioned to herself. “People fall out of love. And it cannot be explained. There is no step-by-step guide on how to protect yourself.”
“What if the person you’re protecting isn’t you?” I asked, my voice low.
She smiled. “If you care enough to spare them heartache, then I’d say you’re halfway there already.”
On the other side of the sliding glass door, Summer pulled the phone away from her ear and shoved it in the back pocket of her tiny shorts. Her full lips were taut in a devious smile, and a desperation to know what made her so happy lanced me.
I wanted to know her more. I wanted more. Full stop.
An hour later and two more canoe-sex coffees, I said goodbye to Mom. Kneeling, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.
Mouth to my ear, Mom whispered, “I like that one. Let me know if you need any advice.”
I whispered back, “I don’t need your advice about women, Mom.”
She barked out a laugh, shaking her head. As she pulled away, she cupped my cheeks in her hands the same way she did when I was little. “We’ll see about that.”
I pressed a kiss to her cheek before standing.
Mom motioned to Summer. “You, too, sweetie. Don’t think you’re leaving without a hug.”
A hesitancy clouded Summer’s eyes as she bent down to wrap her arms around Mom.
Still in her embrace, my mom muttered, “You have him bring you by again, okay? Even though I tell him he doesn’t have to, he insists on bringing me groceries once a week, so I make him dinner. You should come.”
As Summer pulled herself up, she grasped Mom’s hands, her head tilted. “I’d be honored.”
Once back at the truck, I paused, keys in my hand. “She likes you.”
Summer glanced up at me, the lip balm stick an inch from her lips. “I told you she would. Why are you surprised?”
Why was I?
Hesitating, I wrinkled my forehead. “I don’t bring women around to meet my mom. Sometimes, people are weird about it. I’ve seen people shout at her like her hearing is gone, not her mobility.”
“Those people are assholes.”
Snorting, I turned the key in the ignition. The truck rumbled to a loud start. “Yeah, they are. Still—”
The years I had spent away from my mom weighed on me. She never mentioned how bad she had gotten during my absence, and if I hadn’t received the call from the hospital, I wasn’t sure she would have told me. Shame flooded my face. How could I admit I had abandoned my mom for years to live my life in Seattle?
“MS is a gradual disease. Sometimes, It can get better for a bit, but to be honest, I’ve never known a time where she wasn’t somewhat affected by it. When I was younger, it was her being tired and in pain after a long day. She had to use a cane for a while, then a walker. But then she’d get better. She’d be on a treatment plan that worked well, and she would be walking around. And then it would relapse. The wheelchair has only been for about the last year. I wish I was there before but—”
Summer took my hand. Lacing her fingers with my own, she brought them up to her mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “You’re obviously here now. And, to be honest, she seems to be doing well where she is now. From what I saw, she is what my dad likes to call a tough broad. ”
Her sky eyes bored into mine, a smirk on her face.
I squeezed her hand, her warm palm fitting perfectly with mine.
“Come home with me.”
A small smile appeared on her face, almost hesitant. She nodded, and a tight feeling I hadn’t realized had been coiling in my chest released.
With my free hand, I shifted into drive and continued one-handed, never letting go.