Page 78 of Fragile Hearts

I want to respond with the same answer I gave just a few minutes ago, but he’s trying so hard, and I need to not shut down.

“Tell me what to do, Owen,” I whisper, each word a stuttered gasp for air.

“What does she want?”

“I don’t know. She said she wanted nothing. Just to see me,” I tell him, and my chest aches with the thought. It can’t be true. After all this time, she’s shown up just looking to have a relationship with me? She had eighteen years that she pissed away.

He lets out a slow breath, and I can tell he’s processing what I’ve just said. Always diplomatic and understanding, the most compassionate man I’ve ever met.

“You came here,” he says. “You came to our house, our home. You didn’t run or hide or try to avoid it all. You’ve grown, Sloane. You’re a different person than you were a year ago. Hell, you’re a different person than when you moved in with me.”

I nod, taking in his words but not responding. Letting him talk helps me. Hearing his voice and every soothing word encourages me, telling me that I’m not that girl I used to be.

“You can set boundaries, and if you don’t want to see your mother, then that’s okay. But if you do, that’s okay too. You just need to find what you’re comfortable doing.”

Fuck, he really is perfect. Most guys would have bailed by now, not knowing what to do with a blubbering, needy mess. But not Owen. He jumped right in, fixing everything that is wrong in my world.

“It could be good for you to see her. Get some closure,” he now adds, and closure is probably what I need. “Or she could really just want to see you, Sloane. Get to know you as an adult. Maybe she’s realized how much she’s fucked up.”

I want to believe him, and he isn’t lying to me. He believes all of this could be true because he doesn’t know my mother. He doesn’t know the hell my life was with and without her. It wasn’t until I became an adult that things changed.

They changed because of me. She had nothing to do with that, and I’m not sure I want her to get to know this part of me.

“Closure,” I echo, the word catching on my tongue as an ache pulls at my stomach, tightening painfully. I do need closure. I do need to let her know that I can’t continue my life hating her, but I’m also not sure I want to know her either.

“Yeah, closure,” Owen says, repeating his own word, and again I find myself nodding. “No matter what you decide, I’ll be right here. I’ll always be here waiting for you.”

He says this, but the worry still lingers, fierce and loud. She ruins everything, and I can’t let her ruin this.

I snuggle into him, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent, the scent of calm and love, letting it remind me that I’m worthy of his love.

“I’m going to meet her,” I now say, sounding resolute, but even as the words leave my mouth, I’m still trying to convince myself.

“Do you want me to come with you? I’m here, Sloane, whatever you need.”

“I’m okay,” I tell him, needing to do this on my own. It’s my mother, and for once in my life, I need to address everything that happened growing up.

“Call me if you need me,” he responds, dropping a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

An hour later, I’m sitting outside Matt’s Shrimp Truck, waiting for her. She’s already late, and I tap my phone screen, seeing the time glowing brightly.

Fifteen minutes.

How long do I wait? Just waiting is triggering for me.

I used to wait for her when she had scheduled visits, and she’d never show. I can’t possibly explain the level of disappointment and how much that fucks a kid up.

And here I am, an adult, waiting for her, that fear eating away at me, that used feeling returning.

But I push it away.

She doesn’t get to create that in me anymore. This is my life now, and I’m in charge of who I allow in. I need to surround myself with supportive friends and people who make me smile.

She’s failing already. Something I knew she would do.

Nothing has changed.

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