Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Whoa! Stop. I don’t want food,” I huffed, blinking at the combination of excess sun and a manic mother.
She pushed her dark hair behind her ears and smiled. “Trust me, my love. It’s what you need. That and a good workout will set you right. You’ll feel better after practice today.”
“I don’t think so, but thanks anyway.” I slumped in the bed and pulled the covers over my head.
She tugged at the navy duvet until I dropped it. “I don’t want to upset you. It’s bad for your health, but you’ll meet a girl someday. You’ll have children and laughter and you won’t remember this boy. You’ll forget him because he’s not the person you’re supposed to love.”
I hated every word she said, but the hardest part was that I recognized my weaknesses in them. I’d been programmed to please since the day I was born. My purpose was to be her purpose and in turn, to give her what she needed. To give her what she’d lost.
Okay, maybe that was unfair. It was early still. I took a deep breath then blurted, “I love him.”
Silence.
When she found her voice again, she used a carefully modulated tone that sounded somewhat…rehearsed.
“You can’t love him. You can have affection. You can have…relations. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know men do sexual things with other men. But what you can’t have is love. It’s not God’s will.”
“So I’m broken,” I said matter-of-factly.
“No, you’re perfect, darling,” she assured me, brushing hair from my forehead.
I let out a strangled laugh as I reached for my jeans and pulled them on over my boxers. “Thanks, Mama.”
“It’s true.”
“Really? ’Cause he’s the only thing I got right this summer. I failed at everything else. I got cut from the play…twice.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t tell you. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to worry about me or tell me to come home. Geez, I’m twenty-three years old and I just—I wanted to prove myself. So I stayed at the beach, played a lot of volleyball, and fell head over heels for someone who doesn’t care if I take over dad’s business or if I chuck it all and get my pilot’s license instead.”
“Oh, my God!”
“He liked me for me, and he worried I might be too hard on myself. He made me think being perfect might not be the answer. And he’s right. There’s no freaking way on earth I’ll ever achieve that lofty goal.”
“Braden, calm yourself. Relax, dear. No one said you had to be perfect, but—”
“You did, Mom. You did.” I stalked to my dresser and pulled on a clean T-shirt. “What would happen if I did things differently?”
“What do you mean?”
I paced from the window to the door and back again, gaining speed with each pass.
“What if I’m supposed to meet a man instead of a woman? What if we loved each other and got married and had kids and built a life together? What if we were happy? Would you still think I’m perfect? Or would you think I was a lost cause? Would you give up on me?”
She put two fingers over her mouth and shook her head. “Why are you saying these things?”
“I’m asking you a real question. Mom, I’ve spent my whole life trying to make you happy and I’m…I’m miserable. I set limits on myself based on crap I should have let go as a kid. I’m not a sickly kid anymore. I’m a paranoid adult who just let go of the best person I’ve ever met and—”
“If he was special, why did you come home, Braden?” she asked calmly.
Good question.
“Because I need to know something.”
“What is it?”
“I need to know if you’ll still love me if I tell you this is who I am. I’m bi and I can’t change me to be who you want,” I whispered. “Are you going to be okay with that?”
Tears flooded her eyes and her lips quivered. She hugged her arms around her small body and shook like a leaf. “Of course. Of course I love you. I’ll always love you.”
I strode across the room and pulled her close. “I love you too. But I need to do things my own way. Make a few mistakes and hopefully win a few of my own battles too.”
“Does this mean he’s the one?”
I smiled. It was so like my mom to speak in extremes. Elliot couldn’t just be a man I loved, she wanted him to be the only one I loved. But in this case, I could emphatically guarantee her that was true.
“Yes, he’s the one.”
“I’ll need to meet him. What’s his name?”
“Elliot. My roommate,” I added with a sheepish smile.
“Hmm. I had a feeling.” She caressed my cheek and smiled. “Come. Let me feed you before you go anywhere. How about those pancakes?”