“Ah. The drug addict ex-hockey player.”
I pressed my lips together. Fine. If this was how she wanted to play, I could match her move for move.
“My husband. The kind, caring man—everything you’ll never give him credit for.”
I stared her down, refusing to waver, my heart pounding but my face steady. If she wanted a fight, I wasn’t backing down. I refused to allow Austin’s past or his journey with sobriety to be a part of his entire personality, especially in front of my mother.
“Why are you here?” It was the only thing she asked, and I huffed out a sardonic laugh.
“To visit Jacob,” I said and crossed my arms over my chest. “We’re leaving in the morning. Please leave, Mother.”
My mom dared to take a step closer to us. “No goodbye? No tea? No asking how your dear old mother is?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, grinding my teeth as I tried to steady myself. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but this time I wasn’t going to swallow it.
“No. Because it’s been months of silence sinceyouhung up onmelast.”
I stepped forward, boldly closing the distance between us, leaving Austin behind me. I clenched my hands at my sides, but I held her gaze, refusing to flinch.
“You’re the one who is supposed to protect your children, no matter how old they are, but instead, you continuously expose me to your venom. Your judgment. Your warped, narcissistic need to tear me down every chance you get.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she scoffed, her lips curling in that familiar, condescending smirk.
“Oh, Charlotte, always the dramatic one. Still can’t take a little constructive criticism, can you?”
“Constructive?” I snapped. “You call years of tearing apart my body ‘constructive’? You call belittling my husband ‘criticism’? No. What you do is cruel. It’s toxic. I’m done letting you make me feel like I’m not enough just becauseyoucan’t face your own failures.”
Her mouth opened, ready with another snide remark, but I held up a hand, silencing her.
“I don’t care what you think of me or Austin. I’m happy. I’m building a life that’s full and real and nothing like the shallow existence you always tried to force me into. So, no, I’m not asking how you are. Not tonight. Not while you’re still this person.”
Austin’s hand rested lightly on my back, but I didn’t break eye contact with her. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel small in her presence. I felt strong. Stronger than she’d ever let me believe I could be.
My mother’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her carefully constructed superiority faltering for the first time. “Charlotte, I—” she began, but her voice wavered, and she stopped, her hands fluttering at her sides.
I stood my ground, refusing to soften, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Austin stepped up beside me, his presence solid and steady, a quiet show of support.
“You what?” I pressed. “You didn’t mean it? You’re sorry? Or maybe you just can’t handle someone finally standing up to you.”
Her face flushed, and I saw the cracks in her armor. She scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a dramatic attempt to recover. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this nonsense,” she snapped, but her voice lacked the sharpness it usually carried.
“Good. Then don’t.”
She looked between me and Austin, her lips pursed, clearly scrambling for something biting to say. Instead, she let out a huff, grabbing the handle of her purse. “I have better things to do than waste my time here,” she said, turning on her heel and marching toward the door.
We watched in silence as she opened it, pausing for a brief moment as though expecting us to call her back. When neither of us moved, she scoffed again and stepped out, slamming the door behind her.
“She’s gone,” I said, feeling both foreign and free.
Austin stepped closer, gripping my waist firmly as he pulled me flush against him. “You were incredible.” He tilted my chin up, his thumb brushing lightly over my jaw as he leaned in.“Watching you stand up for yourself, seeing your strength—that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I melted into him, clutching at his shirt as he softly pressed his lips to mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed—it was steady and grounding, the kind of kiss that told me he saw all of me, even the parts I’d kept hidden for so long.
He rested his forehead against mine as he held me. “You’ve never looked more like the woman I fell in love with.”
For the first time, the weight of my mother’s hold on me felt like it had truly lifted. I looked up at Austin, my heart full as his warmth enveloped me, and for the first time, I knew I didn’t have to carry that burden alone.
46
