Page 38 of Anything For This Love

I jog up the stairs two at a time and knock on Logan’s door. When he opens it, his annoyance quickly morphs into surprise before a sly smile curls his lips. Clearly, he was expecting someone else.

“Hey, dickhead. I didn’t realize you’d be attending the shit show this evening.”

“Don’t let Mom hear you talk like that,” I chide. “She’ll ground you and take your phone.” I nod to the device glued to his hand.

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “She’s too busy sucking up to Dad to pay me any attention anyway. Ever since she moved back in, she’s been stuck so far up his ass, I’m surprised he hasn’t accidentally sat on her.”

Stunned, I hold up a hand. “Wait. She moved back in?”

“Yep.”

“When?”

“Over the weekend.”

“I didn’t know. Nobody told me.”

Logan shakes his head. “That’s probably why they invited you to dinner. Guess the cat’s already out of the bag.” He shrugs unapologetically.

I have a sneaking suspicion that’s not all they’re planning to discuss with me tonight.

“Do I need to act surprised when they tell me?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. They're gonna find something to bitch about anyway.” My brother’s apathy is out of character and I wonder if something is going on with him that I’m not aware of.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” He brushes past me on his way to the stairs. “Let’s eat.” I drop the subject, knowing it’s best not to push. He’ll talk about whatever is bothering him when he’s good and ready and not a moment before.

“Your mother has moved back in, and we are ending our separation,” my father announces as soon as our dinner plates are cleared. He glances at my brother, then at me. “I have also decided to pursue the presidential nomination. I did not come to this decision lightly. I’ve been on the fence because of the difficulties our family has faced over the last few months, but after many discussions with your mother, I was reminded of why I got into politics in the first place. I am a public servant. My mission has always been to help the people and make their lives better. I’ve achieved many of those goals as a senator, but I can do even more as president.”

My mother smiles reverently at his side. I know this has always been their goal, but part of me is still a little surprised. I thought for sure he would decide not to run this time, to continue in the Senate for a while longer, but that’s not the case. I will, of course, support him in his decision. I just hope that it truly was his decision and not my mother pressuring him into doing it. I open my mouth to congratulate him, but loud, dramatic clapping from my right stops me.

“Well put, Father. You certainly havemyvote.” My brother’s voice drips with sarcasm as three sets of wide eyes stare at him in disbelief. “You should include that in your speech when you announce it to the public. Or was that your speech and you just needed a practice run?”

“Logan, what has gotten into you?” my mother questions, scolding in her tone. I’m wondering the same thing. His usually jovial persona is gone, replaced by this snarky little twit I don’t recognize.

“What do you expect from us, Mom? Are we supposed to jump for joy because Dad might become the leader of the free world while ignoring the fact that you damn near tore our family apart?” His voice rises along with his body, and by the time he's done, he’s leaning over the table, his palms flattened on the polished mahogany. “You’re insane if you think this is a good time for a presidential campaign. You need help.” He turns to leave, but our mom shoots from her chair, her perfectly poised demeanor disappearing in an instant.

“Iamgetting help,” she trumpets, her face twisted with fury and desperation. “This may be difficult for you to hear. God knows it’s difficult for me to admit, but I haven't been okay for a long time. I never truly dealt with your sister’s death.” Her voice catches and a tear rolls down her cheek. She swipes it away before continuing. “However, recent events have forced me to examine my emotions and actions more closely, and so I returned to therapy. I’ve been able to work through some things I’ve suppressed and avoided for years. Your father,” she continues, gazing at him with love and appreciation shining in her eyes, “has attended some of these sessions with me, and now we have a better understanding of each other. We are stronger than we’ve ever been.” He reaches over and grabs her hand lovingly, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “So despite the fact that I’ve made some monumental mistakes and hurt our family, we are still a family and we support each other. And we are going to support your father. This was ultimately his decision. I did not and could not force him into it, no matter what you may think.”

Her chest heaves with exertion, her eyes aglow with passion and her face pink with anger. Aside from the day she found me and Abby in Peyton’s room, reading her books, this is the most feeling I’ve seen her exhibit. She’s no longer the shell she was for years, just going through the motions and fulfilling her duties.

Chastised, my brother hangs his head. I don’t know what fueled his little tirade, but whatever it was, he lets go of it. He skirts around the table, walks straight up to her, and pulls her into a hug. She sags against him in relief, her tears flowing freely now.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, his voice thick with regret. “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t know you were in therapy. I’m so sorry.”

My throat tightens, an uncomfortable amount of empathy coursing through me at the sight of my mother crying into my baby brother’s shoulder. I notice something else glimmering just below the surface.

Hope.

I return home after dinner with my family feeling a bit lighter. What happened this evening has been building for a while. I was glad to hear my mom is finally learning to cope with the devastating loss of Peyton. I don’t think she’s ever fully worked through the stages of grief. Avoidance isn’t part of the process, but that’s where she’s been for the past thirteen years.

I feel myself softening toward her and a deep-seated feeling of confliction settles into my chest. I can’t reconcile what she did to me and Abby based on what she’s gone through in the past. It doesn’t explain away the betrayal; for that, I can’t fully forgive her, at least not yet. Admitting that to myself causes guilt to wash over me. Maybe one day I won’t feel that way, but that’s a long way from now.

Settling in for the evening, I pull on some fleece pajama pants and fire up my laptop. I have to finalize plans for my surprise for Abby and Chloe. Christmas is just around the corner, and I want to do something special for them. I’ve already confirmed Abby’s work schedule so I know what days she has off, and sought out Ama’s opinion on the matter to make sure it’s something Abby will enjoy. I also offered for Ama to come along, but she wants to stay home to be with Raven. It will be her first Christmas spent with her estranged daughter in almost a decade. She also pointed out that it’s my first Christmas with Abby and Chloe and that we should have the chance to spend it as a family, just the three of us.

Once I double check our flight schedule and ensure the car rental is booked, I close my laptop and get ready for bed. The past week has been exhausting. Despite Erin being quite proficient at her job, she's grown less and less confident in her work, constantly seeking out validation. It’s almost as though she’s afraid to be on her own. She frequently second guesses her work and has me review it. Her orientation phase will be over soon, and I was closer to being ready to turn her loose two weeks ago than I am today.

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