Page 8 of The Prodigal

She’s had a year with me and now endures my sarcasm like a champ.

“You know, Mother,” I continue, like she didn’t just ignore me, “most of the time, people prefer cash for their fake birthdays.”

This time, she turns, rolling her eyes. “Not you. Money means nothing to you.”

If you ask anyone who knows the Potters, they will tell you I look and act more like my father. While that might be true to some extent, my soul came from this woman right here. She knows me in a way no one else ever has. It’s why she will always be my weakness. No matter what I want to do, the thought of disappointing her always gives me pause.

But I can’t let the what-ifs and fears stop me now.

Ramsey Potter will one day understand that I did what I had to for all of us—including the baby she carries inside her, my biological sibling due next year.

“That’s not what your husband says,” I tease. “He says I’m expensive.”

“Only your smoking habit is expensive. The rest of you is cheap.”

I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up as my mother stops in front of one of the doors and turns, flashing me a sweet smile. “If I ask you to stop smoking, would you be willing to try? For me?”

She asks with such sincerity that I hate to lie. “I’ll try.” I chuck her under the chin. “But only if this gift is worth the hike over from Vance’s.”

It’s literally next door—far from a hike—but I like to remind her of her husband and be a diva about everything.

“Deal.”

She holds out her hand, and I have to bite my lip not to swear.

“I was joking.” I’m not giving up smoking. It’s the only thing that keeps the demons at bay.

“I wasn’t.” She shrugs.

It’s then I realize I drastically underestimated my mother. The woman is stubborn and completely undeterred when she wants something. No wonder my father had to get her shitfaced to marry him.

“Are you scared to see what’s behind this door?” she goads, appealing to my base nature.

I have no fear. Not of the man who destroyed me and certainly not of what she’s hiding behind the door.

Flashing her a lazy smirk, I stand straighter, like I couldn’t give a shit what’s behind this door. Nothing will convince me to give up cigarettes. “Open the door, Ray, and you have a deal.”

It was a bad deal.

I realize it a second after she pushes open the door, revealing a bedroom decorated in gray and black.

“I know you’re in college now and will have your own place soon, but I wanted you to know, no matter what happens, you can always come home.”

Home.

The nagging goal I could never achieve. Not when I moved in with Vance and Halle or when I slept in the guest room at Duke and Ramsey’s.

I’ve never hadthis.

I’ve never had a space that was created specifically for me, at least not selflessly.

Not the way my mother is offering.

She doesn’t need anything from me, nor is she blackmailing me into keeping quiet.

She’s offering me…

My chest tightens, and I have a hard time pulling in air. “I can’t—”

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