For the first time ever in my hopeless romantic life, a bitter little voice whispered that maybe love just wasn’t worth it after all.
And part of me believed it.
Chapter 3
“I worry about him, you know?”
“That’s because you’re his mother.”
“It’s just hard seeing him so distant and closed off. That’s not like him.”
“He’s going through something, sweetheart. He has to work through it in his own time and in his own way. He’s taking the necessary steps. We just have to be there and support him along the way.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose from my place at the bottom of the stairs, listening to my parents’ hushed voices floating down the hall from the kitchen. It was bad enough that I was thirty years old and living back at my parents’ house, but to hearthatconversation? It made me want to bang my head against the damn wall.
I should have taken Gabe up on his offer to have the spare room at his place when I first came home, but I didn’t want to burden my brother. I didn’t want to burden my parents either,but until I got a place of my own, which couldn’t happen until I had a job lined up, which couldn’t happen until I worked some things out in therapy, I was stuck.
People probably imagined that being home with friends and family was a good thing, that it would help. But lately, I just felt stressed and lost. I felt like a goddamn charity case that everyone was walking on eggshells around.
I fuckinghatedevery second of it.
I cleared my throat to announce my presence before rounding the corner from the stairs and making my way toward the kitchen. The seriousness of my parents’ voices from moments ago all but vanished, and they were both smiling when I emerged from the hallway.
“Morning, big guy,” my dad clapped my shoulder nonchalantly—he, at least,triedto come off as casual as possible, knowing I wasn’t one who enjoyed being fussed over.
“Morning,” I said, looking between them before moving to the coffee pot.
“Did you sleep okay last night?”
“Yes, Mom,” I lied.
“That’s good,” she responded, but something in her tone told me she didn’t quite believe me. She was always good at seeing right through me. “How about some breakfast?”
“I already ate.” I turned to look at her with a strained smile, forcing myself to soften my tone. “But thank you.”
I knew she meant well, but the way she hovered out of concern made my chest tighten and only filled me with more guilt. I hated that she felt like she had to tiptoe around me, hated that my issues seemed contagious and spread to everyone else.
“Any plans today?” my dad asked.
“Uh, no. I did my run early this morning. Might just hit the gym a little later.” That was one thing that helped clear my head a little—going on runs, working out. The routine made me feel like I had some control, at least for a little while. “Might meet up with Wes and Luke tonight.”
“How was your therapy?” my mom asked solicitously.
“It’s…going.” I sipped my coffee. I started therapy last Monday, one of the “resources” I was offered as part of my outprocessing when I left base. As of now, I was seeing the guy twice a week. But I really didn’t want to talk about it right now. At all. With anyone. “I’ve only had two sessions,” I offered with a shrug, hoping that would be enough to shut it down for now.
“Well, do you…like the guy? How’d the first two sessions go?”
Before I was forced to bullshit that answer, the doorbell rang, and my mom announced she’d get it before disappearing down the hallway.Saved by the fucking bell.
I heard the front door open, followed by Wes’s voice. “Hi, Mrs. Pierson. Can Blake come out and play?”
Both my dad and I snorted at the question, and I shook my head. “Jesus Christ.”
“Betthatbrought back some memories, yeah?” I heard Lucas next.
My mom’s soft laugh floated down the hall. “Come on in, guys.”
A moment later, Wes and Lucas walked into the kitchen with my mom, both smiling when they saw me. While Wes leaned against the island counter, Lucas clapped my shoulder. “Morning.”
