Chapter One
Addison
“Addie, are you sure about this, hun?” Mom’s worried tone touches my ears over the phone’s speaker, and I take a deep breath.
Count to ten. Breathe.
Don’t blow up.
Crashing out only makes her anxiety worse.
“Yes, mom,” I mumble into the receiver. “Loxley and I have been inseparable since high school. Why wouldn’t I be sure about moving to Columbus?”
I hear what sounds like a mountain of paperwork falling from the other end of the phone, and I give Mom a minute to collect herself.
“It’s just so far away! How will we have brunch if you’re eight hours away? How am I going to know you’re safe?” She sounds frantic on the line.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes tightly, trying to push back the frustration rising inside me as Mom's anxiety seeps into my own.
She’s only worried about my safety.
Don’t lose your cool, Addie.
Time to gentle parent the parent.
“Mom—” I begin, only for her to cut me off in a rush.
“You can’t even remember to wear underwear! How are you going to survive on your own?”
I roll my lips in to keep my laughter contained. It isn’t that Iforget. It’s that Ihatewearing panties. They’re restricting. Can’t blame a girl for choosing comfort.
But Mom doesn’t see it that way. Instead, she seesher twenty-seven-year-old daughter, who still needs her hand held.
I can’t blame her for her smothering either. Ever since dad died when I was ten, she’s been a complete mess. It was a freak accident. His truck ran off a bridge in Montana, and he was trapped as the cab slowly submerged in water.
Mom wasdevastated.
My parents didn’t have the perfect marriage, but they cared in their own way. They’d argue, but once it was over, things always went back to normal.
No, it wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t hate each other. I think the only thing that gives me solace is knowing they both loved each other and found their own ways to show it.
The loss of my dad shattered a piece of Mom I don’t think will ever heal. She developed severe anxiety and refused to keep us in one spot. I bounced around so much from the age of ten to sixteen that I can’t remember what my last stable home looked like.
I never questioned her because she’s been like this my whole life. Now that I’m older, it still bothers me occasionally, but she’s locked up tight. Questioning Morgan Bright is worse than pulling fucking teeth. So, I stick to what I know and leave that part of my life behind.
I still hold a special place for my dad in my heart. I keep a picture of us tucked safely away in my wallet. It was taken the day I won nationals in math for my school back in New York two weeks before his accident. After that, our lives were changed forever.
I’m so lost in a memory that I tune in as Mom continues her "My Daughter is a Lost Cause” rant.
“…you could have died! The gas—”
“I thought we buried this argument!” I groan, tossing more clothes into my box with a force that crumples my neatly folded tights. “My old apartment didn’t even have gas!”
“It could have, but you wouldn’t have known because you didn’t check with the front office like I asked you tomultipletimes!”
I let my head fall back to my shoulders as I release a breath, deliberately reminding myself that she means well. Beneath my irritation, I know I’ll understand her worry once I have kids of my own, but right now the patience it takes feels exhausting.
It’ so hard.
