It got me here, where I'm not even sure if Austin is ever going to speak to me again or if I fucked things up so badly that he's just done with me.
"Do you really feel like you don't have parents?" Mom finally asks, her voice small.
"Truthfully? Yes," I whisper, my hand clutched around the phone. "I've spent most of my life feeling like I was only important to you and Dad when you could hold it over each other's heads. You wanted me to love you most. He wanted me to love him most. Every gift, every trip, everymoment was always more about one-upping the other than it was ever about me. Neither of you ever stopped to ask what I wanted or what I needed. You were too busy hating each other to notice that I only ever wanted to feel like my parents loved me as much as they hated each other. I've never felt that way, Mom. Not once."
A noise like a stifled sob echoes down the line. For a moment, I think she's going to hang up. And then she speaks, her voice so raw it guts me. "I never, ever wanted you to feel that way." She tries to swallow it down, but I can hear her crying now. "I only ever wanted to give you good memories. But I suppose I was jealous," she whispers. "And afraid that you'd love him enough to choose to go live with him instead of with me, like your brother did. But I never meant to hurt you, Serena. You're my daughter.Of courseI love you more than I could ever hate your father. You and your brother are the best things we ever made."
"Mom," I whisper, a lump in my throat.
"I mean it. I don't want you to live your entire life afraid to love just because we didn't get it right, sweetheart. Our mistakes aren't yours. Don't chain yourself to them. Trust me, you'll only hate yourself for that."
I hesitate, swallowing hard. "You still love Dad, don't you?"
"What we had was over a long time ago," she sighs, refusing to answer.
"You're allowed to forgive him, you know," I whisper into the phone. "If it's what you really want, you're allowed to make that choice."
"I know, dear. But I accepted that it was over a long time ago. We're two different people with two very different ideas of what marriage should look like. That's not going to change."
"I love you," I say, not sure what else to say to that. Honestly, it's probably a good thing that she recognizes that. I think my dad would jump at the opportunity to get back with her because he never got over her either, but he'd probably only break her heart again. He's good at that.
That's part of why I've been so damn scared to let myself love Austin. My shining examples of a relationship are a serial cheater and the woman still competing for his attention, twenty years later. I don't want to be like my mom, loving someone so much I hate him because it's the only way I know how to deal with it. But mostly…I don't want to be like my dad, breaking the people I'm supposed to love because I'm selfish.
"I love you, too." Mom pauses. "I assume your man is the one all over the news with you?"
"Yes," I whisper, gulping. God only knows what she thinks about all the media coverage surrounding us. It's been a shitshow. She's probably horrified.
"I like the way he looks at you," she says instead of chastising me about my ass being on the internet. "If youlove him, don't run from it, baby girl. You aren't like me or your father. Don't spend a lifetime living with regret because you've convinced yourself that you are."
"Thanks, Mom," I whisper, a tear slipping down my cheek. She's right. I'm not her or my dad, and I don't have to live with the weight of their mistakes and choices resting on my shoulders. I can't cling to my fears forever, not if they mean breaking my own heart and his. Not if they mean losing him.
I can love Austin with my whole heart. I already do.
We talk for a few more minutes before disconnecting. I drop the phone to the bed beside me and then bury my face in Austin's pillow, just breathing in his scent, my heart aching.
There are so many things I want to say to him, so many things I wish I'd already said. So many things he deserves to hear. And maybe, so many things I deserve to say.
God, I wish he were here right now.
I wish I'd said it back last night.
Mostly, I wish he'd say it again right now. I need to hear it. They're the best words I've ever heard.
Eventually, I crawl from the bed, determined to go to his game tonight even if he no longer wants me there. Even if he doesn't see me in the box, I still want to support him.
And afterward…well, afterward, I just hope he's willing to talk, or at least listen.
Since I quit my job last week—much to Jack's relief—and don't start at the soup kitchen until next week, I don't have anything to do with myself, so I shower and get dressed, then turn on the news to assess the damage from last night.
God only knows how much the jerk with the camera caught. Hopefully enough so that the whole world knows Austin didn't do anything wrong. But I'm fully aware it doesn't always work that way for athletes.
Sometimes, good deeds and the best intentions end in punishment, and the most awful transgressions get swept under the rug. Optics matter, and when we've already been splashed all over the news…well, like Jack said weeks ago, the optics surrounding us aren't great.
As expected, the sports channel is all over the fight from last night, discussing it in detail. Reactions are…not as bad as I expected, honestly. It's pretty clear from the video that Austin reacted to protect me.
Watching his jealous little fan shriek and stalk away feeds my soul in a way that's likely to land me in hell. But you know what? Screw it. She had it coming. If being glad hehurt her feelings makes me a terrible person, I'll own it. I'd rather be an honest bitch than a bitter bitch.
I'm lost in thought when the anchor cuts to a live video feed from the presser at the stadium.
