Page 27 of Point of Contention

Neverlived.

“Older.” She searched my gaze. “Wiser, too.”

I laughed, but the sound morphed into something else, that sad half-sob that accompanied any attempt at laughter these days.

“Oh, RJ. Come on, let’s go inside and catch up. Tell me all about it.”

She already knew, of course, and had since before I called her. Bad news traveled fast; even to podunk towns in the middle of nowhere. We may have had only had a few traffic lights, but what we lacked in progress, we made up for in gossip.

And Marnie Blake’s sweet little Rylan Janine had run off to the Big Apple and gotten herself involved with a sadist.

The horror.

I could only imagine what my mother thought of me. What she thought of Cabot.

The desire to defend him roared to life within me and she hadn’t even brought up his name. I felt defensive of him, of what he’d introduced me to. I’d seen the things they said about Cabot in the news, what horrible adjectives they’d used to describe the man I loved. It was important that not only did my mother not think poorly ofme, but I couldn’t allow her to think poorly of him, either.

I lived within this odd juxtaposition of regretting everything that had veered me so off course, but not regrettinghimat all. And now that I was possibly headed back to the internship, back to his castle, it was even more integral that my mom understood my feelings and how important he was to me.

Perched on the foot of my bed, my mom watched me thoughtfully, considering everything I’d just told her. I’d been so worried that things might be weird between us, different, but sitting with her now, discussing life and love felt so ridiculouslynormal.

We fell right back into who we were before I left home.

“Well,” she finally said, “He sounds like a smart man.”

My eyes widened.

“I think he’s right.”

“Yeah?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my crossed legs. “Really?”

“Really. You can’t throw the whole thing away based on what people might think of you.”

“It’s more than that, though, Mom, it’s…”

“You’re scared. And that’s totally valid.” She shrugged. “They might treat you differently. Honey, they might even treat you badly.” She offered me a sympathetic smile. “But you’re not doing this for them. You’re not doing it for him. You’re not even doing it for me. Or Greer. You worked hard to get this internship foryou. Foryourfuture.” Her eyes widened, imploring as she said, “You are the only one who can build your future, RJ.”

Biting down on my lip, I nodded. She was right, obviously, but hearing her confirm what I already knew helped me remember myself, my goals.

No one else cared about my future or worked to pay my bills, put food on my table.

What they thought about me didn’t matter in the whole scheme of my life.

My pride had taken a hit, but I could recover from that. I could not recover from throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me and, essentially, my career.

After a moment, I nodded, but asked, “What do I do about him, though?”

Mom laughed, shaking her head as she patted my knee. “Honey, if I knew how to handle men, I wouldn’t have spent twenty-seven years with your father.” Her voice cracked on the last word and my heart broke for her. She’d put up with so much. Countless years of abuse, both physical and verbal. He’d harmed her in ways I likely would never even know.

Scooting across the bed, I climbed into her arms and whispered, “I’m sorry for leaving, Mama.”

“Oh, honey.” She tightened her arms around me. “You had to. You’re so strong, so much stronger than I am. If you’d stayed…” She sighed. “No apologies. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.”

After a moment, she patted my shoulder and I leaned back to look at her.

“What do you want…?” she asked. “With Cabot, I mean.”

I laughed. “As if I have any idea.”

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