Page 162 of Splintered Hearts

It’s my own fucking fault and I know it. I’m finally ready to face it.

This is my home and it’s about time I start acting like it.

Knocking, I wait, my heart hammering in my chest, wondering if I have the wrong day. No. Third Sunday of every month. When I told Noah about the accident a couple of weeks ago I made a pact right there and then that I was going to get better. I even took a taxi over here today.

Therapy sucks, but after two online sessions I hate to admit that it’s actually helping. The door swings open, startling me, and Bri’s wide smile twists as she sees me. “Bri—” The door slams in my face. My heart falls to my feet. My grip tightens on the gift bag, my eyes stinging.

Why did I come here? Why did I think I’d be welcome here? Why did I think they’d just welcome me back after everything I’ve done? I fucked up the only place that has ever felt like home. I—

The door opens, with Xavi now in the doorway glaring at metwice as hard. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Xavier Arlo Amato! Language,” our mother yells from somewhere inside the house, as if she wasn’t the source he learned all these words from.

“Sorry Ma,” he calls out, not looking sorry one damn bit. “What the fuck do you want?” he whispers. Yeah, well... Xavi learned exactly what I’d said to Noah that awful day we got back from the lake house, and now he’s angry at me. Thanks Bri.

“Can I come in?”

“Are you a fucking vampire?” he mocks, sticking out his tongue like the immature dick he is.

“Oh my god.” Bri shoves Xavi out of the way. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” She ignores my manners which, fair. I’m just lucky to have my balls still attached to my body.

Coming into the house, so many things hit me at once. It’s been years since I’ve been here but it’s the same. My mother’s house is neat and cozy. A baby blue two-story Victorian-style house that has as much character as it’s owner. It has a big front porch and turret on the right that I’d chosen for my room. Apparently Luci thought it was haunted and didn’t want to go in there. Fortunately for me, the only ghost inside was myself. The house had belonged to Lia’s late husband, and after his sudden death at the age of thirty-three she had inherited it from him. After a lawsuit against his former employee for wrongful death she knew what she wanted to do with the money.

She wanted to give a home to kids who didn’t have one.

Lia fostered dozens of kids over the years, but only officially adopted Xavi and Luci, and me. Even though she only adopted us three her home is open to everyone. It’s a giant house, and I know she loves the feel of it when it’s full. Full of the people she loves most.

Sunday dinner is an open invitation to any of the kids she’s given a home to. It’s a constant that kids like me need. Thishouse is a safe haven. Long ago, I’d asked her why she allowed so many kids here that weren’t hers. I was bitter and angry and didn’t understand or trust her kindness.

“Everyone deserves a safe place to call home.”

And that’s what she did. Safety was as precious as money in my world.

“What’s all the swearing about—” She freezes, seeing me. It’s like she’s seen a ghost and maybe that’s exactly what I’ve felt like lately. A ghost.

None of what happened was her fault yet I punished her all the same. I thought I was doing her a favor by not being around. She chokes on a sob, rushing across the room and squeezing me hard enough to hurt, but I don’t dare move away.

Pulling back, she cups my face as if she doesn’t believe I’m real. Her hazel eyes glaze. “Jamie?”

“Hey, Mom.” When I give her a kiss on her forehead she breaks down a little. She’s small, but she’s always acted like she’d protect me from all the evil the world has to bring, and for a while she did.

Life’s funny, though. It reminds you that no matter how hard you try sometimes shit just happens. You either grow or you break.

I’m tired of breaking.

She wipes her eyes. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Nodding, I smile. “If that’s al—”

“Shut your mouth right now,” she snaps. “Of course it’s alright!” I love her fury and grab her in another squeezing hug.

“I’m sorry.”

She hugs me back tighter, my throat closing up.

Finally we break apart and she looks around me, and fuck, I already know what she’s going to ask. It’s now I see the audience we have. “Where’s Noah?”

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