I swallow thickly. “I haven’t even rang the doorbell yet.”
Another firm squeeze of my hand. “But you’re here, Oak. And that takes all the courage in the world.”
Grace, my loving woman who despite everything remains to be optimistic. My woman who sees the glass half full even when it’s fucking empty.
“You give me far too much credit.”
“I don’t think you give yourself enough.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for this.” It’s the fear talking. The fear of rejection. The fear of seeing hatred, and worse, disappointment in the eyes of someone I could never bear to see.
She frames my face in both of her hands. “You are, Oak. And I’m here by your side, always.”
I wrap my arms around her, bounding her in a steel embrace that has her front plastered to mine. My eyes fall as I angle my head down, inhaling the jasmine scent from her hair. “I love you, Grace.”
She smiles up at me, a warm smile that lights up every cell in my body and makes me feel as if I’m her entire world. “I love you, too, big guy.”
I allow myself another moment of peace in her arms. When I finally feel as if I’m ready to face the battle that lies ahead of me I let her go, but keep my hand clasped in hers.
With her hand in mine we take the three steps up the front porch that I’ve crossed most of my life. Steps I walked upon as a child. Steps I walked upon as a young boy before he turned into a young man.
I stop just a hairbreadth away from the pale yellow door that was once more vibrant than the sun.
“You can do this, Oak,” she says softly to me. I swallow roughly. “I have faith in you, always.”
I tighten my hand around hers. It soothes me just as much as her sweet words, maybe even more.
My hand shakes as I bring it up to the doorbell. I exhale an even shakier breath.
Fear.
I had thought I had conquered that as a Marine.
Grace takes my hand with hers and brings it to the doorbell, then the both of us press it, and my breath catches in my throat.
The sound of the doorbell ringing is louder than a bomb. It ricochets through my chest.
An opening of a door shouldn’t be climactic but to me it is. Rejection or acceptance lies on the other end of that door. Love or disappointment. Forgiveness from the one who I should’ve never wronged.
And even if I am at peace, I know I’ll never be right without what lies behind that door.
As the door opens wide I see her frame filling the space. All I hear is a sharp cry of a gasp before arms are thrown around me and the wetness of tears collect on my cut.
“My dear, dear boy,” she sobs and I feel it wrack her entire frame. Her fingers bury themselves in my shoulder blade as she holds me as tightly as she can. “I’ve waited for so long.”
And finally, the fear that had paralyzed me has vanished. I wrap my arms around her, embracing her with an intensity that rivals the strength of steel yet with all the love and care in the world. “Mom,” I croak and I feel her tears fall harder against my chest.
Perhaps the greatest punishment I have ever inflicted upon myself was denying the love and warmth of my mom.
I denied her a son, because I had taken away a son from every mom on my team.
Ten years I’ve wasted. I don’t want to waste my life away anymore.
Eyes, the same shade of icy blue as mine, hold tears as she looks up at me. She then frames my face in her older frail hands and I’m reminded of being a young boy once again. Her lips are a quivering smile. “My dear sweet boy, you’re really here.” Her voice is filled with wonder and choked with tears.
I hold my hands over hers. “I’m really here, mom.” Tears of my own fall as I choke out, “And I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. For all that I’ve done to you.”
My mom leans up and presses a kiss to my cheek. Her eyes are hard and unyielding on mine. “Don’t apologize, dear. I know the torment you inflicted upon yourself. A war you didn’t want to win. But my dear boy, you’ve suffered long enough.”
