Page 79 of Fragile Hearts

Matt smiles at me from his truck, giving me a wave as I sit at a picnic table, the view of the water behind me.

I wave back just as an old, worn-out truck comes rumbling down the road, and I close my eyes, shaking my head.

It’s not because the truck is old. I have no place to judge. My car is old too. It’s because it fits with my mom, and there’s not a chance she’s even driving. Being dropped off by some random guy who she’ll claim is her boyfriend.

Fuck, nothing has changed.

“Sloanie,” she calls, stumbling as she climbs out of the truck. The driver barely stops to let her out before he’s spinning his tires, gravel flying up.

I look over at Matt, catching him watching me, and he gives me a sympathetic nod, almost a silent approval that it’s okay that I’m here with this mess of a woman.

“Sorry, my boyfriend was having car trouble,” she slurs, and it doesn’t take an idiot to know she’s high. She’s always high. This is her normal.

Her lids are heavy, and she can hardly focus on my face, her eyes darting anywhere but where they should be as she sits down across from me.

“You hungry?” she now asks, taking in Matt’s truck.

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s with the clipped answer, Sloanie?” she spits out, her body swaying as she tries to sit upright on the picnic table.

“I don’t want to do this with you.” I don’t call her mom. I don’t use her name. We aren’t family. We aren’t even friends.

“Oh my god, why do you always have to bring up the past? It’s over,” she barks, her words louder than they should be for a public place.

“I didn’t bring up the past, and I don’t want to. I have moved on. It’s you who hasn’t. Showing up here high. Telling me you just want to spend time with me. You’re full of shit. What do you want from me? Just tell me.”

She rolls her eyes, letting out a scoff as she folds her arms over her chest. “This is exactly how I thought you’d act. You’ve always been such a brat, treating me like shit. I’m your mother, for god’s sake.”

“I don’t have a mother,” I hiss, my teeth clenched at her demeanor, her words. “I lost my mother at twelve years old, but if I’m being honest, it was long before that.”

“You’re so dramatic. It wasn’t that bad. You just like to play the victim.”

It’s with these words that I nearly lose it right here. But I close my eyes, taking in a breath, letting it out slowly. I can’t embarrass Matt, and that’s the only thing keeping me from screaming at her.

How dare she.

“And with that, I’m going to leave. Don’t contact me again. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t show up at my work. Nothing. And if you do, I’m getting a restraining order.” It all comes out in a rushed demand, but there’s no way she misses the point of it all.

She might be high, but she isn’t stupid.

“What, you think because you met some rich guy that you’re better than me? That your life is better?” She’s yelling this as I rise from the picnic table, following me to my car. “You’re still the same piece of trash raised by me. Don’t fool yourself into thinking he doesn’t see you that way.”

Her words are like a dagger straight to my heart, and she knows this. She knows what to say, but she doesn’t get to win. Not this time.

“Goodbye,” I say as I close the car door, driving away and leaving her standing there.

It’s been nearly a week since Sloane went and saw her mom, and while she hasn’t seen or heard any more from her, I can tell it’s all still weighing on her.

She’s been a little quieter than usual, and while she is still working and going to school and coming surfing with me, our nights have been spent holed up at home on the couch watching movies.

I get it though, because as much as she saw her mom to try and get some sort of closure, she’s still affected by her just showing up out of the blue like she did. I think she’s also still affected by making the choice to say no to her mom and cut her out of her life. I have no idea what that must feel like, never having been in a situation even remotely close to what Sloane is going through.

I wish so badly that she didn’t have to go through any of this, but I am glad that I can be here for her. That she isn’t running or pulling away from me because of all this.

“What are you up to today?” Sloane asks, her voice still husky with sleep as she rolls into me, the morning sun streaming into our bedroom.

I lift my arm so she can get closer, her head now resting on my shoulder as she drops an arm across my stomach, letting out a sigh. Wrapping my arm around her, I pull her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We are going surfing,” I tell her, “and then we are going to go catch up with Flynn and Alana.”

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