Page 129 of The Thought of You

I angle my large frame toward her, swallowing most of the couch. “Sure, I do.”

“You have always been fiercely independent, son. When you had surgery, I offered to come up and help you around the house, but you’d hired strangers to clean and cook for you. When you moved from Atlanta, none of us knew you’d already packed and sold your house. You told us after the fact, per usual. It’s like you don’t want to give us the opportunity to lend a hand, but that’s what family does. We’re there for one another.”

“I couldn’t agree more. It’s why I was happy to move back here. I love being here for the girls, and for you and Dad.”

“What about you, dear? Who’s there for you? Because you don’t want us to be.”

“That’s not true.” I shake my head and set the glass onto a coaster on the coffee table. “I know you’re all busy with a million things, and I don’t want to make your lives harder.”

“How come you let us make yours harder? It’s not fair, is it?”

“You’re not making it harder, Mom. How could you say that?”

“How could you say it about us?” she shoots back with a glimmer in her eye.

“Point made.” I crack a sad smile as guilt swims through my stomach. Sighing, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. “Sometimes, I feel invisible,” I admit quietly, my voice a lower octave than usual. It’s almost like it doesn’t belong to me. “Like I’m just the funny guy everyone wants around for a laugh, but that’s it. That’s all I’m good for, plus household repairs and babysitting. Sometimes, I think if I didn’t help so much, you all would forget about me entirely.”

Mom places both hands over her heart, the hurt in her eyes a stab in my chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Mom,” I reassure her. “It’s me. It’s my own insecurities. Please don’t feel like I’m blaming you for anything.”

She swallows, and the thick sound indicates it’s not so easy. My pulse spikes—and not in the good way like it does after a particularly rewarding day of students overcoming their individual obstacles and accomplishing goals.

It’s in the antsy way like after I swerve my car on the road to narrowly miss a deer.

Why did I say anything? This isn’t why I came here. I came to talk about Addie, not the relationship with my family.

“You should blame me—all of us,” she says softly.

“It’s not you. I’m not mad at any of you.”

“You should be,” she asserts more firmly than before as her tone grows in weight and gravity. “We’ve dropped the ball, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry we’ve asked so much of you, and I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to be there for you, even when you said you didn’t need me. You’re my son, and I should’ve known better than to leave you be. I just never wanted to push you too much. I didn’t want to push you away.”

I dip my head like it’s too heavy to hold up.

Mom laughs, but it holds a lot of sadness. “I think the strong ones are often overlooked, and you’re one of the strongest people I know. It’s not always obvious when the strong struggle, and we need to do better about that, starting now. Tell me what’s on your mind, Owen, and don’t you dare say everything’s fine.” She holds up a finger. “I won’t have it. I’m not going to let you leave until you tell me everything.”

“What? Are you going to tie me to the fridge?” I tease.

“There’s an idea.” She smiles back. “But how about I just bribe you with sweet potato pie?”

“You know the way to my heart.”

She stands and pats my shoulder. “Walk with me, darlin’.”

I slide onto a stool at the counter while she pilfers through cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware, my body heavy as I absorb her apology.

It was important to share my truth with her, after all.

When Addie had asked me last weekend if I thought it would help to talk to my parents, I’d said no. I didn’t think it would change anything, but I was wrong.

I’ve been quietly strong for most of my life. I’ve been a rock for my family—one that comes with countless jokes in my back pocket.

But I don’t always have to be, do I?

Although it’s too soon to tell, and I should probably also air things out with my father, it’s already obvious to me that my mother and I are headed down a new path.

She meant what she said.

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