I roll my eyes. “Mom, I got that job because weneededit. You were working yourself half to death, and I wanted to help. Not because it was my dream.”
Her forehead scrunches as she leans back in her chair. “Baby, I wasn’t working myself to death because of money. I was doing it so I didn’t have to face the truth of being alone. If I worked, I could pretend he was still coming back home.”
My jaw clenches, fingers tightening around my mug of tea, allowing the burn from my fingertips to distract me from the throbbing in my soul. “Well, so was I.”
She blows on her tea, nodding. “That’s fair.”
We sit in silence for the next few minutes, sipping on chamomile and enjoying the quiet. Or maybe we’re both reflecting on the ways we’ve handled life ever since Dad’s death. Going over all the things we did right, and all the ways we could have done things differently.
Then, even though I try to fight it, my mind wanders to Blakely. And despite the betrayal that swirls in my gut—the hurt that clamps around my lungs with every breath—I wonder how she’s doing. If she’s maybe, possibly, missing me as much as I somehow still miss her.
Sighing, I force the thought away, mad at myself for not being able to push her to the side as easily as she did me.
My mom’s hand reaches across the table and covers mine. “What’s wrong, Jackson?”
I smirk. “Who says something’s wrong?”
The left side of her mouth lifts. “A mom always knows.”
I’ve always kept my problems close to the chest, not wanting to dump my issues on her when it was clear the load she carried was close to making her knees buckle from the weight. With Dad gone, it was my job to be the man of the house. And the man never crumbles beneath the pressure, he’s there to hold everyone else up.
But as she looks at me with questions in her eyes, my heart yearns for understanding, so I blow out a breath and give in, desperate to have someone in my corner who Iknowwill choose me. Someone who loves me without conditions.
“How did you survive after losing him?” I ask.
At first, I don’t think she’ll answer, that she’ll change the subject like she usually does.
Her mouth parts, her eyes growing glassy. “A minute at a time. And when that didn’t work—a second.”
My fingers tangle in the chain around my neck, telling myself that if my mom can get through Dad’s death and somehow make it to the other side, I can get through losing Blakely. At least I know she’s still out there, living. My chest squeezes, hoping her father shows up for her. That the look I saw in his eyes wasn’t a trick of the lighting—that he heard me when I told him she needed help.
I can’t bear the thought of her being all alone when she’s in need.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I blurt out.
My mother’s brows draw in. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“With Dad.” I swallow, the lump in my stomach surging through my chest and into my throat. “I should have been there. Should have—” My voice cracks and I shake my head. “I missed his last moments.”
“Oh.” Her chin wobbles as she sucks in her lower lip. “Honey, he never blamed you for that. Neither of us did.”
A tear slips out of the corner of my eye, my hand reaching up to brush it away.
“Your dad... he wassoproud of you, but it was because of who you were, not because of what you did.” She takes a slow sip of tea. “And you did more than your fair share. More than you ever should have had to.”
“No, Mom, I—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “We all have our burdens to bear, and letting you be the one to shoulder him when he couldn’t stand is one of mine. But if you’ve been holding on to this... skewed version of yourself, out of some type of guilt over not wanting to see him in his final moments, I’m here to tell you that, baby, you’vegotto let that go.”
My throat feels raw as I swallow. “I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
She sighs. “You’ve always been a nurturer. Ever since you were a little boy. I used to take you with me to the hospital and show you the nursery. Do you remember that?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh, well that’s a shame. Youlovedit.” She laughs. “Always wanted to go in and hold them. Asking the nurses if you could help.”
I smile, trying to force the memory, but coming up blank.