I stared back at her as my childhood flashed through my mind.
Of all her sins against me, and there were many, striking me had never been one of them.It had been her saving grace.The only one.
“A lady never raises her hand,” I admonished coldly as fury pitched a tent and moved to live inside me.
Her face paled as she swallowed and stepped back.
“Neither does a lady snort in derision, nor does she ever raise her voice,” I echoed words from the past.
She gritted her teeth and curled back her lip.
I stepped forward.“Don’t even think about saying anything else.And don’t come back.”
She pursed her lips and glared at me.
“Go,” I ordered.“I have no problem calling Sergeant Elliott if necessary.”
She scoffed.“Go on, then, get burned.Don’t come crying to me when it’s over.”
Satisfied to have the final word, she sailed out the door, and I wilted.
I just cut my mother out of my life.
The only family I had.
And I felt nothing more than the faintest sense of relief.
Carefully locking up once more, I turned my face into the wind and stomped around the back to the stairs leading up to my apartment.
My cheek burned and my temper boiled.
Ever since Deacon waltzed back into my life, everything had gone to hell.
Did I still love him?
Probably.
Did it matter?
No.
Stepping into my apartment, I locked the rest of the world out, leaned back against the door, and slid to the floor.
Because the worst part of my conversation with my mother was the fact she wasn’t wrong.
You’ll never be good enough for them.
A sob caught in my throat because Deacon’s parents would never accept me.
And he’d never dream of hurting them never mind cutting them off.
Why would he?
He had a loving family, a picture-perfect childhood, older brothers he adored, and a world steeped in loyalty and tradition.
What did I have?
Shame over my personal pity party deepened the burn in my face.