He’d always loved his mother. Since he was eight years old, it had just been the two of them. They’d both been protective of each other. Butthis? This hadn’t come from a place of love. Love was supportive. It was kind. This was some cruel bullshit he couldn’t begin to understand.
He shot a glance at Indie in his rearview mirror. When he’d stepped out of his mother’s house, she’d been pale and quiet, and he’d had no idea what she was thinking. Had she bought into any of the shit his mother had spewed?
No. She had to know that she was more than he could ever deserve. Shehadto.
He’d wanted to ask—fuck, he had so many questions. Hewouldask. He wanted answers.
When he pulled into the driveway, he was out first, scanning the house, then the street.
Clear. Good. He didn’t need another thing to handle tonight.
This time yesterday, he’d thought he only had one problem parent. Now he was fighting with both but in very different ways.
Indie stepped out of her car, and he placed a hand on the small of her back. Inside, she slipped off her shoes and went straight into the bedroom. He followed her, watching as shetugged her hair out of the elastic band, letting the fall of her long locks drape over her shoulders.
“How long?”
Her shoulders visibly tensed at his question. “How long what?”
“Don’t do that, Cricket. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. How long has she been speaking to you like that?”
Indie swallowed before taking off an earring. “She’s never been so direct. Usually, it’s just backhanded remarks. Subtle digs here and there.”
Just? There was nojustabout it. “What has she said?”
“It’s often about my infertility. Referencing people we know whocouldget pregnant. Making a point to tell me that theirs was a natural conception. She also makes digs about my looks, comments about me looking tired.”
Tears shone in Indie’s eyes, and it fucking gutted him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She turned to face him, those tears still there as she wrapped her arms around her waist, like she was trying to protect herself from something. “Because she wasn’talwayslike that. And when she started, you and I already had our own problems…and your job was dangerous and important.”
“You’reimportant.”
“And because she’s your mother. She’s your only family.”
“Not my only family. You’re my wife.” He took another step forward. “I willalwayschoose you.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “Maybe that’s the wrong choice.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” This time when he stepped forward, she stepped back. And everything in him rebelled against that distance between them.
“Everything she said was true. You were the one working the dangerous job. You were dealing with so much, yetIfell apart because I couldn’t have a baby.”
“Don’t downplay what you went through, Indie. The injections. The hormones. Then the negative tests that put you right back where you started, again and again. It wasn’t just your body that suffered from the process. It was so much deeper than that. I saw it. What I was going through was nothing compared to you.”
“It killed me. But maybe I should have been stronger. I left you in California, and I still couldn’t find peace here.”
He lifted a hand to wipe her tears, but she took two more steps away, her back hitting the wall.
“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” It went against every part of him that just wanted to touch her. Draw her in close.
“It didn’t work the first time.”
The first time? This wasstilltheir first time. They’d never stopped and started again—it was one marriage. “Do you love me?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Do you love me, Cricket?”
