Somewhere behind me, Jeff is trying to wrestle Kyle as Jess spurs them on with laughter and bets.
“I’m so happy you’re home, lovebug,” Mom coos, leaning over to pinch my cheek. “My little policeman.”
“Have you been drinking?” I ask, and she giggles, her dirty-blonde hair brushing her chin where it’s cut into a bob.
“Only some wine.”
“You’re a lightweight, Ma. Who gave you wine?”
“Your father did, so I’m allowed!” she responds proudly.
My mother is so sweet by nature, and so dependent on my father. It’s adorable in a lot of ways.
I got my dad’s height and looks, while my mom stands at 4 feet 11 inches. And though she has her dirty-blonde hair, her green eyes were only given to Jess.
“Alright,” I comply, and I give her a soft smile.
“Are you doing okay, Eli? You seem a little out of sorts.”
Other than Carrie, my mother is the only other person in our family who is equipped to read me. She’s not quite as good at it, but she can still guess when I’m a bit off.
“I’m fine. Probably just tired from the plane ride,” I lie, and she tilts her head at me.
I don’t feel like getting into the Rowan situation twice in one day. Plus, I have a feeling Mom would just insist I fly him here to mediate with the family.
“Okay. Well, you know I’m here if you need me. You know how much I love my little lovebug.”
Her nickname for me has been around my entire life, yet it never fails to amuse me. All things considered,lovebugis the last thing I am.
“I know, Ma. Thank you,” I answer softly.
“How has your anxiety been? Are you still taking your meds when you need them?” Mom suddenly inquires.
I’m almost startled by her question. Now that I think about it, I haven’thadto take my medication since I moved to Fort Myers. I’ve even begun drinking a bit more when out with Rowan—although I still refrain from getting drunk.
Surely there is no correlation between the two, right?
“It’s been okay. The meds work well,” I offer noncommittally, and Mom smiles.
Her wrinkled hand rests on my knee just as another group of kids approaches our driveway, and I prepare the prefilled bowl of candy.
Her concern for my mental health is admirable, and the fact that I’ve been doing so well that I’ve barely even thought about my anxiety when I’ve battled it for so long is slightly alarming.
But it’s nice—having people who care about me enough to ask.
They may be exhausting, and I may feel a bit excluded from time to time due to my condition, but even I can see how lucky I am to have such a loving family.
I know there are people in this world who aren’t given such supportive families, or families at all. And I’m grateful for mine, even if I can’t love them how I wish I could.
I would rather have an overbearing, excessive family than no family at all.
Beingthatalone? That would be miserable. I can’t even imagine it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elijah
Carrie pulls into the Waffle House parking lot, cutting the engine.
