Page 160 of Twisted Collide

I ignore her, carrying on. I need to get this out.

“I learned that people can only hurt you if you let them.” I think about Dane and Molly, about Dad and Sherry, about everyone who welcomed me into their circles and made me feel wanted. “This is me saying goodbye, Mom. I no longer give you permission to hurt me.”

“No.”

It’s half-gasp, half-cry.

She drops to her knees and wraps her arms around herself. “How did it turn out like this? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

The words escape as a whisper as if she’s chanting them to herself.

Still, I answer her, because I need her to know how much she hurt me. “How did you think it would turn out after you repeatedly reminded me that I’m a burden, never believed I could make something of myself, hid an entire father from me, and kicked me out of your home? Did you ever love me?”

As soon as I finish talking, I feel the weight soaring off me. For decades, I kept these words bottled inside me.

I stayed silent when she shook her head in disappointment at my grades, too scared she wouldn’t show up on Sunday Date Night and I’d have to wait another week to see her.

I didn’t say a word when she’d toss the utility bills into the shredder and complain about how much it cost to house a family of two.

Never once did I feel like she truly wanted me.

In fact, before Dane, I never knew what it felt like to be loved without strings attached.

“Of course, I loved you.” Mom springs to her feet, determination lining every inch of her face. “Iloveyou. I loved you the moment you entered the world, refusing to cry. Did you know that it tookminutesfor the doctors to get you to cry? I bawled for you, praying you were okay. I promised the universe that day that I would protect you with my life. That I’d give you everything you ever wanted and more.”

I swallow, forcing myself not to sway.

I want to.

These are the words I’ve wanted to hear for years.

Too little too late.

“How would I know?” I turn away. “You never tell me anything.”

“I won’t lie and say being a single mom was easy. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve never regretted it. I was just a kid myself, and there I was in the hospital, handed a child. I didn’t know what to do. I promised you that I’d give you the world if you’d just breathe, and every time a bill came that I couldn’t pay, I hated myself for it. You were never a burden, Josie. I just wanted to give you more, and I couldn’t.”

“I never asked for more.” I thought of all those nights I tucked myself into bed as she worked two—sometimes three—shifts. “I just wanted you there.”

“I know, and I fucked up. I don’t know when it happened, but at one point, I couldn’t see past my own failures. Instead of stepping back and reevaluating my priorities, I doubled down. I started taking on more shifts, spending more time away from you, chasing a better version of myself I thought would come if I could give you everything I promised I would.”

“I already told you—” I start to say before she raises her hand to stop me.

“Please, Josie. Please let me get this all out."

“Go on, then.” I motion for her to continue. “Explain.”

“I should have told you about your father the second I discovered his name.”

“You think.” I roll my eyes, and the movement makes my head throb despite the headache medicine Dane gave me during his visit.

Then her words sink in.

Find out?

So…she didn’t know?

Stupid, stubborn hope invades my chest, planting itself around my heart.

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