Page 66 of Kiss Away Your Pain (Wounded Hearts 2)

I swallow hard, rubbing my calloused hand. “Why…” My lower lip trembles. I pull in my lips, trying to make it stop. “Why did you leave us? Didn’t you love us anymore? Did we do something wrong?” My nine-year-old self is desperate for the answer. Desperate to know if I’d done something somehow. Broken pieces desperate to be put back together by knowledge. To understand. Wondering all these years if I was too broken to love.

Leaning forward again, she touches her hand to my cheek as tears trail down her face and pain coats her eyes. “Oh, my dear boy. I loved you all very much. You didn’t do anything wrong. I leftbecauseI loved you. I left because I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you.” She pauses, looking down, shaking her head. “I struggled with drug addiction for many years. I tried to get help, and your dad did everything he could to help me get clean. But nothing worked, the addiction was too strong. I became a danger to you and Anastasia. And I was no good for your dad.” She was broken too. I feel it now.

“But he loved you.” I swallow thick. “He loved you every day since you left. Every day until he died. He loved you.” I force the lump down my throat, holding back the tears burning behind my eyes. Anger trying to flare. “You broke his heart. He could’ve helped you get better.”

She shakes her head with a pained smile. “He couldn’t help me. He tried. I was dragging him down. I was destroying our family. He deserved better. You all did.” When she looks down, a tear drops into her cupped hands. “I knew that if I was going to let the drugs kill me, I was going to make sure none of you had to be the one to find me.” Another tear slides down her cheek as she raises her head. “So, I left.” She confesses her darkness. Lays it out for me to judge. Regret streaks down her face.

“And you’re clean now?”

“I am.” She pushes a faint smile to her lips.

My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. Anger trying to creep in again. “Why didn’t you ever come find us? Or at least contact us?”

The corners of her mouth turn down as her brows pinch together in agony once again. “I was ashamed. I thought I’d lost the right to be in your lives.” Her body curls inward, like forcing out the words was excruciating. “How could a child ever forgive a mother who abandoned them?” She hangs her head, releasing soft, whimpered cries. Her raw heart splayed. Nothing concealed.

My mother sits before me, frail and hunched over, crippled with regret, plagued by remorse. With an understanding of why she left us and why she never reached out, the constriction in my chest loosens. Years of pain, torment, and suffering begin to fade. Anger shifts.

I lean toward her. She looks up into my eyes, tears streaming down her timeworn cheeks.

“I came here to find you.” I brush the tears from her wrinkled cheek. “To get answers to questions that have haunted me for years. Thank you for telling me all this.” Two souls tattered, seeking comfort, yearning to be loved.

“You deserve answers.” She sniffs. “I don’t expect your forgiveness,” she says, shaking her head gently. “But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be part of your life.”

We’ve missed so much of each other’s lives; I don’t want to miss any more. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Would it be okay to hug you?” She asks, her soul begging for atonement.

The boulder lodged so tight in my throat; air barely squeezes by. Tears threaten the corners of my eyes. I stand, holding my arms open. Practically collapsing into me, her body trembles. I hold her as time ticks, unable to erase lost years.

My soul in need of its own deliverance, I whisper, “I forgive you.” Resting my head on top of hers, solace flows.

She convulses in my arms as sobs pour out of her, hugging me so tight, like she’s trying to make up for twenty-five years of missed hugs.

Her crying subsides and we sit back down in our chairs. I take a few napkins out of the holder on the table and hand them to her. She dabs her cheeks and under her eyes.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet if you’re up for it.”

“Yes, of course.” She perks up and straightens her posture.

“Give me a minute?” I get up and step away, calling Candi. “Hey, how far away are you?”

“Just around the corner, a few blocks down,” she says.

“Do you want to meet my mom?” Outside of Anastasia, these are the two most important women in my life, and I want them to meet.

“Yes, I’d love to meet her. See you in a bit.”

I return to the table and sit down.

“She’ll be here in a few minutes. She’s just down the block.”

A smile lifts her cheeks and there’s a twinkle in her eyes. “You’re married.”

Heat rushes through me. “No.” A chuckle shimmies out of me. “We’re not married.”

“Oh. I never see any women on your Instagram so I figured you just keep your private life off of there.”

“I do. I don’t want all those strangers knowing my personal business. But no, Candi’s…we’re…” What are we? We haven’t started using titles, but I know we’re exclusive to each other. “We’re seeing each other.”

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