Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“His mom showed up unexpectedly this weekend, and they haven’t always had the best relationship.”
“I know that much, at least, and I hope they finally found some common ground.” She picked at her bread as she pondered that information. “Is that all of it?”
“No.” My shoulders dropped. “I…messed up.”
“Oh, honey.” She forked her fingers through my hair, and I wanted to draw back because I was sweaty and probably smelled. But this was my mom, and I also desperately wanted to be taken care of this one time. Stupid, I knew. “What do you mean?”
“I went to the bar to see him perform, which was great.” I huffed. “But there was this guy who kept hanging around the stage.” I didn’t mention the man being hauled out when I arrived, because why dredge up that memory again.
“Did the man have too much to drink?” she asked, and when I nodded, her features transformed to concern. It was a hot-button issue for both of us, given our history. “And?”
“At the end of the night he cornered Seth as he was on his way to meet me at the bar, and I could tell Seth was uncomfortable.” I wrapped what was left of my sandwich, my appetite gone. “And when he gripped Seth’s arm, I lost it.”
She winced. “What did you do?”
“I grabbed the guy and had some words about consent and stuff,” I explained, looking away as mortification lined my cheeks again. “Seth got upset with me because…well, because…”
“Because he needs to fight his own battles?” she said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Yet complicated as hell given what we’d gone through.
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “Even after he tried signaling for me to back away, I didn’t listen. I just reacted.”
She squeezed my hand. “Because you wanted to protect him.”
“Yeah. But that’s not always the right decision, not when it’s something he’s working on.” I glanced at her, my cheeks still burning. “That how you feel…about me?”
She huffed out a breath and linked our fingers together. “Honey, I know your childhood wasn’t easy. And it was my fault for not leaving your father sooner.”
“No, Ma, don’t do that,” I pleaded, needing her to understand that I didn’t blame her. “Dad was manipulative and terrifying, and I don’t think you should start playing the what-if game.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “You had to grow up way too fast.”
“I did, but it wasn’t all bad,” I replied, thinking of all the special moments that might not have happened had things been different. Life was strange like that. “Carpet picnics, for example,” I pointed out, and Mom’s eyes softened. “I think it made us closer, and I’ll always be grateful for that. You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re mine,” she said with a watery smile. “But I need to be a parent too, to you, not the other way around.” When she gave me a sharp look, I sighed, understanding exactly what she meant.
“I dunno. I told myself I would never let that happen again to someone I love.”
“And you love Seth; that’s why you stepped in.”
“I do. I love him,” I admitted. “And I want to be with him and build something solid.” My chest ached with so much longing, I thought it might explode. “But if he doesn’t feel comfortable around me…”
“Honey, he’s not afraid of you.” She cupped my face, forcing me to look at her. “He’s afraid of himself. If he’s anything like me, he wants so badly to be brave and courageous. He just needs the chance.”
“And I took the chance away from him.” Suddenly everything started lining up in my head like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Seth…my mom…his mom…and how everything overlapped and interconnected into moments and feelings and ultimately living your truth.
“Hey, look at me,” Mom said, so I did. She felt like my rock, my steady place, and I needed that so badly right then. “Maybe you messed up this one time. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t support him and inspire him to be himself all the other times, and that’s a huge deal for someone who’s coming into his own.”
“Like you?” I asked in a hesitant voice. “Are you coming into your own?”
“I’m certainly trying to.” When she grinned, it warmed me to my core. “Which reminds me. I, um…I started going to therapy—you know, to deal with my past, so I don’t make the same mistakes.”
My mouth dropped open. “You are?” I almost, almost, asked her why she didn’t tell me, but stopped myself just in time.
Baby steps.
“Yep. And I wondered…well, she asked…would you come with me to a couple of sessions?”
“Is that what you want?”
“It is, so we can talk about what happened,” she explained. “I don’t think we’ve really dealt with all of it.”