Page 57 of Bad Mother

If you didn’t, no one would. No one would advocate for you, and so you had to advocate for yourself.“I know, Sienna. I know,” he said, moving a piece of hair off her cheek. “And it’s not a flaw.”

“Sometimes it is.”

He paused, and even though her eyes were hooded, they speared him. He knew she was alluding to their relationship; he just didn’t know exactly what she meant. And yet, as much as he wanted to talk aboutthem—in any context—this wasn’t the time. She was vulnerable and clearly exhausted, and he didn’t want her to resent him when she got some sleep and was feeling back to herself. He didn’t want her to wish she hadn’t said something simply because her guard was down. “No,” he said. “It’s your strength, Si. It always has been. Never quitting. Pushing forward, regardless of the obstacles.” He gave her a small smile. “You are still human, though, and humans need sleep.”

She gave him a weary smile in return and closed her eyes. “Thank you, Gavin,” she murmured.

He took the washcloth off her forehead and brought it into the bathroom so she wouldn’t wake with a clammy cloth on her head.When he returned to the room, he started to ask her if she needed anything else before he left, but when he looked at her, she was already fast asleep, mouth open.Good. Sleep, Superwoman.He walked to the bed, smoothed her hair off her forehead, and brought the blanket up over her legs.

The movement must have woken her, because she grabbed his hand before he could turn away, and though she didn’t open her eyes, she murmured, “Stay, please stay.”

Gavin’s heart gave a gallop.Stay.He wanted nothing more. He walked around the bed and lay down next to her. She turned toward him, her body relaxing as she fell back to sleep.

He watched her for several moments. Her lashes fluttered, her lips falling open as she let out a small sigh. He felt an unexpected lump in his throat and swallowed it down. And it hit him like a ton of bricks. He loved her. He’d never stopped. He might have lived the rest of his life never watching her as she dreamed again. And this might be the last time—though hope kept him from embracing that as a reality. But what was true and known was that regardless of what came to pass, he would love Sienna Walker for the entirety of his days. Gavin rarely felt vulnerable, but in that moment, he’d never felt it as strongly. It’d wreck him to let her go again.

But she’d asked him to stay. For now. And so that was what he would do, for as long as she let him.

Gavin woke slowly, dawn barely slipping through the blinds, the room a hazy gray.

“My dress was an A-line gown with a scalloped hemline and had embroidered appliqués on net over Chantilly lace.”

Gavin blinked at the ceiling, his mind rewinding what Sienna had just murmured close to his ear. “I don’t know what most of those words mean, but it sounds beautiful.”

She laughed very softly, and he turned toward her, taking her in. She looked sleepy and beautiful, the shadows beneath her eyes much less severe than they’d been the night before. He could tell just by the clarity in her eyes that her headache was gone. Plus, she’d just muttered a whole complicated string of words that he figured she’d have to be mostly lucid to have put together. Though admittedly, whether they made sense or not, he couldn’t say. “It was. It was beautiful,” she said wistfully.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I left you there. Please forgive me. I wish I’d had the wisdom and courage to do it differently.”

Though it was mostly dark in the room, he saw her gaze travel over his features. “I would have convinced you to stay,” she said. “Or I would have convinced you to take me with you. And then everything would have been different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“I don’t know. Probably a little of both. Maybe one more than the other. That’s the thing about choices. You don’t get to live two different ones. You’re stuck with the one you pick, and trying to imagine the alternative isn’t really productive.”

“You wouldn’t be a cop.”

“No, probably not.” She paused. “Definitely not.” Her eyes went to the side, and he wondered if she was thinking about the people she’d positively affected. He hoped so. It was the thing that made the regret he felt for hurting her bearable. “I do forgive you, Gavin.”

His breath released. It felt like one he’d been holding for eleven years, the hollow he’d learned to live with knitting closed.

“It was probably a bad omen that the place we picked to get married at was called the Antique Flowers Wedding Chapel,” she said.

He managed both a grimace and a laugh. “Antique flowers...” His brows came together in thought. “Whatareantique flowers anyway?”

“Hmm... for me, the phrase brings to mind an old dusty, crumbling bouquet, rotting away in an attic.”

He gave a full laugh then. “That’s less than romantic.”

“Way less.” Her smile dwindled. “I knew something was wrong, Gavin. With you, I mean. I knew it, but I chose to ignore it and write it off to nerves or that you were fighting with Mirabelle about your intention of entering poker tournaments and traveling once you’d turned twenty-one. I didn’t question you because I didn’t want to. I thought... well, I thought whatever was wrong would be dealt with once we were married. I felt you slipping away, and instead of facing it and asking you why, I pushed forward. I had some growing up to do too,” she finished softly.

“You are not to blame for my lack of courage, Si. Please don’t think—”

“That’s not what I mean. I just mean that we both played our parts, and it’s important for me to recognize that.”

His gaze held on her, his heart expanding. He’d thought he’d loved her before, but he’d had no idea. Impossibly, she’d becomemoreof everything he’d always admired about her.

“Tell me about winning the World Series of Poker,” she said, surprising him. He turned on his back. Lying with her felt familiar and new. They used to sneak out of their trailers and lie in the back of his pickup truck, staring up at the nighttime sky and talking until all hours. They’d done other things in the back of that pickup truck, too, her legs wrapped around his hips as he went half out of his mind with pleasure.

The World Series of Poker.He moved his inner eye into that large brightly lit arena, smelled the scent of cigarette smoke competing with the sour stench of adrenaline, and his body cooled, blood coursing more slowly.

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