Page 62 of Half Baked

“I was going to make you more freezer meals. You know the hardware store on Main Street has a small upright freezer on sale. I can fill that up with—”

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m a grown man, perfectly capable of feeding myself. I don’t need my mother to take care of me.”

The look on her face suggested I’d shot her through the heart with an arrow.

I pulled out the chair across from her and sat. “Mom, I love you, but you won’t change my mind aboutanything. If you keep trying, you’re only going to push me away.”

She sniffed and grabbed a tissue from a box she must have placed on the table, then dabbed her eyes. “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you, Noah, I can’t go through all of that again.”

“I know,” I said, softening my tone. “I thought this town would be a lot safer than it’s turned out to be, but I love my job, and I love this town.”

“And you love the girl,” she finished flatly.

“She’s a grown woman,” I corrected. “Not a girl, and yeah, I think I do love her.” Deep down I knew it. It just scared the hell out of me. Especially since we still had some issues to work through.

“So you won’t be moving back to Memphis?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“No.”

“But I miss you,” she said, openly crying now. “And your sister and her kids miss you. We used to see you practically every week, and now we barely see you at all.”

“I’m sorry about that, and maybe after things die down here, I’ll make an effort to come home more often.”

She glanced down at the tissue in her hand, tearing a hole with her thumb. “No, you won’t.” She lifted her gaze. “Not while your father’s still alive.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’re right, probably not.”

“I just wish that you and your dad—”

“This is real life, Mom,” I said, my voice breaking. “Not a fairytale. Sometimes there isn’t a happily-ever-after. Sometimes things don’t happen like you want them. Dad’s made up his mind about me, and we both know I will never live up to his standards. You know, I’m a hell of a lot happier now that I’ve stopped trying.”

Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” I said, tears burning my eyes. “But I’m glad I moved here. I’m making a difference. I’ve made friends and found an amazing woman who seems to put up with all my fears and insecurities and believes in me more than I believe in myself. I’m sure as hell not going to throw that away.”

“Nor should you,” she said quietly. “That’s a rare gift.”

“You owe Maddie an apology.”

“I know.”

“Like a massive one.”

Her mouth lifted into a small smile. “I know.”

“But maybe not right now. She’s at work, and you’re going home.”

A hopeful look filled her eyes. “I can wait until she gets off—”

“No. Send her a letter on one of those engraved note cards you like so much. I know Leah got you a new box full for Christmas. Surely, you haven’t used them all yet.”

She smiled, but this time it seemed more genuine. “I have a few left.”

“I’ll get you her address.”

She drew in a breath and turned serious. “You never would have done this for Monica.”

“That’s because she wasn’t the one,” I said, pushing my chair back. “And Maddie is.” And I had a lot to make up for after all the crap I’d put her through. “Do you need me to help you pack?”

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