Page 53 of Bragg's Match

I fiddle with the comforter. “My mom.”

He sucks in a breath. “Your mom didn’t look after you?”

“She did. Or, at least, she tried. But she couldn’t take care of me.” I stop my explanation there. I don’t want to continue.

“I have all day to sit here and pry answers out of you.”

“I don’t.”

“Then, get to talking.”

“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the wall as I explain. “My mom got cancer when I was twelve. My dad was useless. Probably because he was younger than her and she had always taken care of his every need up until then. Anyway, I had to step up and handle the house and care for Mom. While he was off working and avoiding the situation, I was here cleaning up her puke, feeding her crackers, taking care of the house, and making dinner.”

“You were twelve,” he grumbles. I know exactly how old I was.

“It was all worth it because she beat the cancer. That’s what we thought at least. I went off to art school in Denver thinking everything was fine. It wasn’t. The cancer came back. Dad visited me at my apartment in Denver and begged me to come home. He said Mom needed me. What he meant was he needed someone to come home and take care of everything because he wouldn’t.”

“I quit school, packed up all my belongings, and came home. This round of cancer was way worse. Or maybe I was older and could understand it better. I don’t know. What I do know is by the time Mom was better, my year deferment from college had passed.”

“You didn’t go back?”

“I tried. But my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t bear to be away from my mom. She lived for two more years before the cancer came back. She wasn’t interested in fighting it this time.”

He wipes a tear from my face. “I’m sorry, pixie. I didn’t know your mom had passed.”

“I should be over it by now,” I say as tears stream down my face.

He scowls. “Who says?”

“It’s been more than a decade.”

He palms my neck and forces me to face him. “There is no time limit on grief. Your feelings are your feelings. No one can tell you what to feel.”

I swipe at the moisture on my face. “When did you get to be this smart?”

He puffs out his chest. “I’ve always been this smart.”

“Dork,” I say but there’s no snark in my voice.

“Where’s your dad now?”

I scowl. “He left. He wasn’t a native of Winter Falls the way Mom was. He didn’t ever feel as if he fit in here.”

“Do you have any contact with him?”

“Not really. He has a new life with a new wife. Another woman who’s older than him and babies him.”

“I’m sorry, pixie.”

I blow out a breath. “And now you understand why we can’t be a couple.”

His brow wrinkles. “I do?”

I roll my eyes. “Duh. I’m done taking care of people who can’t care for themselves.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure, you can.”

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