Page 470 of Lodestar

“Things I shouldn’t have known. Worse things than ass-crack coke-snorting.” She patted my arm again. “Don’t worry, son. We’ll make it out of a kitchen consultation alive. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Grinning, I tugged her into a hug. “It is.”

When she embraced me back, both of us just stood there, not moving, just hugging. It was weird but nice, and then she mumbled, “Haven’t done this in a while, son.”

“We haven’t,” I agreed, surprise lacing the words. “I didn’t realize.”

“I did. I thought you were mad at me.”

Was I?

Huh.

Maybe?

Knowing she knew about my abuse and hadn’t raised the subject with me was…rough.

It wasn’t that I needed to discuss it with her, but that she didn’t bring it up left me both on edge that she could drop the conversation like the bomb it was at any given moment andirritated that she couldn’t care enough to ask about that time, to ask what the ramifications of it were on me.

It probably took me longer than it should to say, “No. I’m not mad at you.” I kissed the crown of her head, meaning it because life was too fucking short for grudges. If I had a problem with her not talking about the abuse I’d endured, then conversation was a two-way street. “You can always ask me, Ma. Hugs come for free.”

She sighed against my shirt. “Thank you for finding this apartment for me.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you’re happy here. Is a room going to be for Uncle Paddy?”

“Maybe. Will your brothers have a problem with that?”

“Do you care if they do?”

She paused. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t.”

“Well, then.” I shrugged. “Life’s short, Ma. Be happy. I think Da would want that for you.”

“I think he would too, but it’s strange. I don’t like Paddy in that way. I just enjoy being around him.”

“Is it the beer gut?”

She huffed out a laugh. “What was it Savannah called your father?”

“Ah, a silver fox.”

“Yes, I was definitely married to one of those. I suppose it spoils you. But Paddy’s good to be around and he’s at a loss too. We’ve both let our families down?—”

“Sounds like a recipe for miserable conversations.”

“No, you’re wrong. It’s nice. We’re not perfect and we accept that about each other.”

I squeezed her. “Have you tried apologizing to Aoife?”

“No. What’s the point? There’s no forgiving what I did.” She swallowed. “Does she miss me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why did you ask?”

I sucked down some air. “Star let me down and did some bad… things. She said sorry and I told her it wasn’t enough, that she had to atone. Sometimes, you don’t give up, you find a solution and a way of saying sorry.”

She reared back. “Is that what you think I should do with Aoife? I tried before, but she lost it?—”

---