"I'm back." Mom blows out a breath as she slumps onto the couch beside me. In her hands are our water bottles and a bag of snack mix. "Here, nibble on these."
She tosses the bag onto my lap and finally looks me in the eye. I'm immediately swamped with guilt as I take in her exhausted features.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks.
Her soft smile vanishes, replaced by worry, making me feel so much worse. "Violet, Jesus, there is no reason you need to apologize!"
I can't look at her. This is exactly what she says to me when I try to say I'm sorry for her being kidnapped when I was eighteen.
Rolling my shoulders back, I try to shake off the trigger of those words. "You're tired," I mumble, hoping to guide my mind back to the present issue. "I've kept you up for, shoot, I don't even know how long."
When I glance at her, Mom rolls her eyes. "I'm used to being kept up all night."
My horror flies out of me, not caring about the bruised ribs. I'm completely horrified by her innuendo. "ABSOLUTELY NOT! No!"
She throws her head back and laughs so hard I can't help but join her. I love how happy these men have made her, even if they seriously screwed up when they were teenagers. Mom's ability to forgive them and ensure they grew to be better men has helped her build a life full of love and happiness.
I sober at that thought. How could I ever forgive the three men who broke my heart?
"Do you want to talk about it?" Mom grabs my right hand and gently pets one of my scrapes with her thumb.
I snort. It's a bitter sound because where the hell do I start? "Do I want to talk aboutwhichpart?"
Her lips twist as she studies my face. I let her look, knowing I can't put this off forever. It's only a matter of time before I break down cryingagain.
"You can tell me anything, V."
Nodding, I snuggle further into the couch and squeeze her hand. "I know that. I just really don't want to face it."
"You'll have to at some point," she points out.
She's right, of course. So I tell her.
I explain how I had just come to terms with loving three men right before I fell down that cliff. There’s a slight growl from the kitchen when I provide some of the details that clue me in to Roman and the others eavesdropping.
I don't mind because it's best they know what's going on. Who knows how long I'm going to stay here. Going back to Detroit doesn't feel like an option.
Mom listens silently, but I notice her eyes twitch and fists clench with anger many times. She doesn't cry or even sniffle. Holding eye contact, she soaks in my words and the story of how I got my heart broken.
"I know this all started because I ghosted them?—"
Mom sits up straight and narrows a glare at me. "Violet Bennett," she interjects for the first time. "I don't care if you're injured and sad. I'll kick your ass if you so much asthinkabout taking the blame for their shitty behavior."
There's no use in arguing, so I blurt something else that's weighing on me. "What if they never really cared? I just don't understand how someone could fake a connection like that."
The messy blue bun on Mama's head flops to the side when she cocks her head. As if thinking about something, she nibbles on her lip and glances over my shoulder.
"What?" I ask as a weird feeling flutters around in my belly.Anxietyis what it's called.
She hesitates, then leans forward to brush some hair off my face. Her blue eyes shine with emotion and love, drawing me into their comforting depths. I feel honesty and support radiating from her soul.
"I think they care, Violet," she whispers, and the conviction I hear in her tone makes my bottom lip wobble.
Leaning into her touch, I tremble with sadness and pain. "I'm so sick of crying, Mom. I just wanted to be happy again."
I squeeze my eyes shut against the world, soaking up the feeling of being home with her. She shushes me and cradles me close.
When she speaks, she sounds wobbly and emotional. I suppose this brings up memories of her own heartbreak and trauma, too. "I promise you'll be happy again, sweet girl."
