I broke her gaze and took a step back, pulling away from her hold. The shame felt like a noose tightening around my neck. “Every single day, I fight a war inside my head, Mom. I’m sick. And I’m tired, exhausted from being sick. I spend every waking moment trying to make sure I get the help I need, so maybe, one day, I’ll be able to hug Evie and prove—to myself—that I’m not the same person as I was before. That I’m better.”
“Aus—”
“Mom.” I paused, shifting my attention to the figure beside her. “Ledger.”
His face was stoic, but there was a gentleness from him, so I took a step in his direction.
“I have to admit, the way everything happened didn’t start off well. I felt suffocated by you, and, honestly, I felt replaced. It seemed like my mom finally got the perfect little family she always wanted, and no matter what I did, I was never going to be part of that picture.”
Soft hiccups came from beside me, and without looking, I knew my mom was crying again.
I took a steadying breath. “I’m an adult now, and my failed marriage and alcoholism taught me that I need to make my own decisions and take responsibility for my actions. That’s why we’re having this conversation today. This isn’t going to get fixed overnight—it’s going to take a hell of a lot more work and a lot more conversations. When you helped me with the money, getting me into rehab—that’s the kind of relationship I want from you.”
I lifted my head and squared my shoulders. “What won’t work is asking me to come back here and then keeping me in the dark about critical things that affect my health and my life. It’s my job and my responsibility to take control over my own health. But if you both keep treating me like a child who doesn’t know better, then you’re not giving me the foundation I need to stand on my own.”
“I know. I see that now.”
I nodded. “I need to figure out this insurance issue. Having access to mental healthcare is crucial for me and my addiction. I’ll start looking into options, but if either of you knows of any programs or resources, I’d appreciate the support—since I’ve been away from this state for so long.”
My mom nodded quickly, “I can do that. I’ll ask around the café. Maybe I can even hire you?—”
“Please, stop pitying me. I want to do this on my own, but?—”
“He needs our support.” Ledger cut in. “Not our judgment or micromanagement. Just... support.”
I glanced between the two of them, feeling the shift. Maybe, for the first time, we were actually starting to understand each other.
Ledger sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Austin. I haven’t been what you needed—supportive. I know I have a lot to make upfor, and the last thing I ever wanted was for you to feel left out. I know actions speak louder than words, so I’m hoping that by hiring you and being there for you as you navigate all this, I can start to make things right.” He paused, his expression filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more about the insurance situation. I should’ve been upfront. I’ll talk to HR tomorrow, see if they have any thoughts or resources that could help you. It’s not much, but I want to do everything I can.”
It wasn’t a fix, but it was a start. I looked at the half-eaten food on the table but wasn’t hungry. “I, uh, do you guys mind if I take a walk down to the lake for a bit?”
The beaches in the suburbs were usually closed, but if I was going to break any rules, it might as well be to ground myself in the sand. I missed the water hitting a shoreline.
“Are you okay? I can come with you? We can continue this conver?—”
Ledger wrapped his arms around my mom and gave her a squeeze. “I think he wants to go alone.”
“Yeah. I just?—”
“It’s heavy.” Ledger finished for me.
“It is.” I paused, shifting my gaze between them. “I’ll be back to grab my car and then I’ll see you in the morning at camp if y’all are sleeping.”
My mom wrapped her arms around Ledger. “I’ll ask at the café tomorrow, Austin.”
“Thanks, Mom. Tell Evie I said I’ll see her tomorrow.”
“I’ll make sure she knows you’re the one picking her up.”
I smiled as I grabbed keys from the counter and my shoes and headed out the door. They lived a couple miles from the lakefront, but the walk was going to be nice.
The sun had set, painting the sky in soft pinks and purples, like cotton candy spread across the horizon. I walked down the narrow path between the houses. A cool breeze rustled the leaves, and the sounds of the streets faded as I got closer to the lakeshore.
The neighborhood eventually opened up to the water, where the lake shimmered with the last bits of daylight. It felt calm, a stillness I needed after the chaos of the day.
The conversation with my mom and Ledger had been painful—like ripping open a wound I’d tried to ignore for years. Yet, in that pain, there was a sense of relief too.
I hadn’t solved the main issue because my lack of health insurance was still a problem. The way Ledger and my mom responded made me feel like we were finally getting somewhere, like they understood the gravity of what I was dealing with. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a small step forward.
