Chapter 3
Riley
My mom is quiet as she climbs from the truck. It’s late, and I know she’s tired, but she also seems contemplative. As if lost in thought. I think I know what’s coming, and I’m not looking forward to it. She had a fantastic night watching her golden boy son marry the love of his life.
Now, though?
Now, it’s time to turn her attention to the other son. The disappointment. The loser. Or maybe that’s just me projecting.
Her movements are slow as she climbs the porch steps, pausing to pull her keys from her purse and unlock the door.
I follow her across the threshold and down the hall to the kitchen, feeling as though I’m headed to the gallows.
This conversation has been a long time coming, though—almost seventeen years—and I knew as soon as I made the decision to finally return home I’d have to have it. That there would be explanations owed.
I stop in the archway, leaning against the frame, and watch as she approaches the coffee maker.
She swaps out the filter and dumps in a pack of grounds, then sets it to brew.
Her face is in profile where she stands, reaching into an upper cabinet.
So much has changed. Her hair, pulled back into a neat bun for the wedding, is streaked with slightly more grey than brown, and the lines around her mouth and eyes are more pronounced than I remember.
Are they laugh lines? I hope so, though I don’t doubt my extended absence has contributed to more than a little worry on her part.
She’s different in other ways, too. She seems … softer, maybe. Quieter. More subdued than the no-nonsense and at times bossy woman who’d raised me. Not that I should be surprised. I left, and the world went on without me.
Things changed. People changed.
My mother got older. She’s semi-retired from the bank now, only working a few afternoons a week.
Most of my old friends have moved away. Aidan is a cop—a good one, from the sounds of things—and his sidekick, Ava, who was also a cop, is gone.
Killed as the result of an investigation gone wrong.
I still can’t wrap my head around that one.
Mom pulls two mugs from the cupboard and sets them down loudly on the counter, then she drags over a stool to reach for the Baileys.
So … yep, looks like we’re doing this. And clearly, she expects we’ll both need to be caffeinated for it, and fortified with booze.
Shit.
With a hint of mirth, I note she still keeps the alcohol in the cabinet over the fridge.
Like that ever stopped her six-foot-plus teenaged son from gaining access.
Hell, I bet there are still old bottles in the far back that she’d be surprised to find are only filled with water—a trick from my sneaky high school days.
I watch as she splashes the Baileys into each mug, pauses, and then adds a little more.
Double shit. This isn’t going to be fun.
My mom props her arms on the counter and lets out a long breath before turning to me and meeting my eyes. Near-silver irises stare back at me, the mirror to my own. She bites her lip, making no effort to hide how intently she’s studying me, and I wonder what she sees.
I’m wearing a suit, bought for the wedding, and it’s the first time I’ve worn one since …
well, maybe since court. But I shake off the memory of that horrible time in my life.
No doubt I’ll be revisiting it with Mom soon enough.
Glancing down at myself, I smooth my hands over my lapels.
I’d stopped in a men’s shop in Burley on my way north a couple of days ago and picked it out.
Straight off the rack, it doesn’t fit me very well, bunching a little in the arms and thighs.
I can’t say I clean up all that nicely anyway, though, what with my scruffy beard and slightly too-long hair.
I watch silently as her gaze drops to the tattoo peeking out from beneath my collar. There’s plenty more where that came from. She opens her mouth to say something, then snaps it shut again, shaking her head and turning back to the counter where the coffee is now ready.
While she fills the mugs, I remove my suit jacket and loosen my tie.
Might as well get comfortable for this. Pulling the tie free, I sling them both over one of the kitchen chairs.
My mom turns back to me, carrying the mugs to the table, and takes a seat.
She nods at the chair across from her, and I sit down as well.
Then we both stare at each other for another long moment.
Eventually, she leans forward, eyes narrowing, and says, “It’s time, Riles. ”
“Time?” I ask, if only to delay this conversation a little longer.
She nods at me again. “I didn’t want to push last night when you showed up on my doorstep like the prodigal son returned after all these years.
I was just so relieved and happy to see you.
And there was so much going on with your brother’s wedding today.
But I think you owe me some answers, Riles, and it’s time we talked. ”
I suck in a deep, steadying breath, letting it out slowly as I prepare to deliver a devastating blow. When I again meet her eyes, it’s with determination. “Mom,” I say before I lose my nerve. “I went to prison.”
The words hang there, and I feel as though all the air has been sucked from the room. I watch my mother, waiting for her reaction. Bracing for the surprise, the disappointment to wash across her face, but … there’s nothing.
“I know,” she says softly.
I rear back as though slapped.
What the actual fuck?
Turns out I’m the one who’s surprised.
“Wha—” I sputter. “Y-you—” I shake my head in disbelief. “What do you mean you know?!” I finally manage to get out.
And my mom?
She rolls her eyes.
“Come on, Riley. You were acting strangely that whole year after you first moved away. You barely came home, couldn’t meet my eyes at Christmas, and then you were just gone.
And I don’t even mean physically. You,” she says, reaching across the table and patting my chest over my heart.
“You were gone.” She gives me a sad smile.
“Your calls got fewer and farther between. You stopped visiting altogether. And the rare times when we did still speak, you were a shadow of yourself.” She shrugs then.
“You really expected me not to do anything?”
“But how did you …?” I trail off when the answer comes to me.
“Jack,” I say, referring to her closest friend and Aidan’s boss, Jack Hudson, Chief of the Llyn Lakes Police.
I’d seen him earlier at the wedding, and he’d been tight-lipped, only offering me a curt nod.
Then I’d watched him alternate throughout the evening between casting concerned glances and fond smiles my mother’s way.
“I spent that whole year worrying to Jack about you,” she says.
Of course, she would have. Not only was he my mother’s friend, but my father’s too.
Jack had grown up with both of my parents.
And when Dad died, he’d stepped in to fill a paternal role for both my brother and me, though he was always closer with Aidan, what with him being only seven at the time.
I’d been twelve when we lost my dad. Old enough to have a childhood full of memories with him, and it had felt like a betrayal to his memory to let Jack get too close.
Still, the man had always been around when I’d needed him.
He took care of my mother and brother, and I respected the guy.
When the shit hit the fan, and I blew up my life, I’d been equally as devastated at the thought of letting him down as I had my mother.
Turns out he’d known the whole time.
And so had she.
“He went up there, you know. To check on you. I couldn’t get away with work and Aidan, but Jack? He went for me. Even attended a couple of your early games.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t he? I never saw him. He could have approached me …”
My mom shrugs. “It was obvious you were hiding something and wanted to keep it that way. You weren’t alright, Riley.
We all knew that. We thought it would upset you if he showed up unannounced.
And I was scared you’d push us away—clam up even more.
And, well, you know Jack. He’s a cop through and through.
He suspected if you knew he was there, you’d …
” She doesn’t finish, but I can read between the lines.
“He suspected he’d have a better shot at catching me up to no good if I didn’t know he was there,” I say bitterly, though I have no right to be. I had been up to no good.
My mother nibbles on her lip worriedly.
“So … what did he discover while he was busy spying on me?”
She lets out a long sigh. “He wouldn’t tell me anything at first. Said he had to look into things a little more and didn’t want to upset me without any proof. But I knew it was bad.”
Proof.
Fuck me.
“Then,” she continues, “He went up there for that big game against Newbury. You’d mentioned it earlier in the season. We knew they were the ones to beat. But … you didn’t dress for the game. You weren’t even there. That’s when he found out you’d been kicked off the team for steroid use.”
I nod, unable to meet her eyes.
“I struggled so much there, Mom. It was stupid, but I was barely hanging on. It was like I was invisible to the coach. And the other guys on the team all seemed bigger and stronger than me. They had more endurance. I just … couldn’t cut it.
And I wasn’t ready to let go of my dreams. I knew basketball wasn’t my future, but if I lost my scholarship … ”
“I know, son,” she murmurs. “I wish I had been in a position to send you to college without you having to worry about a scholarship.”