Either way, it didn’t matter. The answer was yes. Always yes.
So I nodded.
And then his lips were on mine again. He swallowed my gasp and the moan that followed. And when he met the end of me one last time, I let go.
20
Bodhi: Mother’s Day
We planned to meet at a gathering of rocks overlooking the beach. I’d insisted on a wide-open space so I could easily escape if need be. Although I’d thought about asking Breeze to come along, in the end, I decided this was something I needed to do alone. And I was glad, because the minute I laid eyes on my mother, the emotions surging through me were more than I wanted to reveal to the girl I was falling in love with.
Marni Easton—my mother—was already there when I arrived. She’d been easy to identify since I’d kissed her photograph every night before bed until I was probably fourteen years old. But the woman sitting before me was not the same fresh-faced girl of years past. Life had taken its toll on Marni, and each year she’d lived without me had weathered her beyond expectation. I suspected hers was an aging that had more to do with unhealthy lifestyle choices than the natural process by which the body matures.
Still, she made a valiant effort to spruce herself up for our meeting. Make-up clung to her skin, settling in the deep lines bracketing her mouth. Dark brown hair touched her shoulders, pulled back in the front and secured with colorful clips. Her bright and cheerful clothing appeared carefully selected, as if she were trying to disguise her true self behind a perky facade. If not for the cigarette shaking in her right hand, I might have bought what she was selling.
As I closed the gap between us, she stood on unsteady legs. After one last furtive puff on her smoke, she dropped the butt and smoothed a hand down the front of her blouse. Any lingering doubt that Marni Easton was my birth mother was put to rest the minute our gazes collided. Our eyes were the same shade of blue. The frosty hue didn’t translate to the photograph I’d cherished for years, but in the early morning light they were truly striking.
She stepped forward, her hand extended in greeting. I stopped, fists clenched and buried deep in my pockets. She hadn’t earned the right to touch me. Not yet.
Marni’s arm dropped limply to her side and she shifted her feet. “You cut your hair,” she observed, a small smile curving her lips.
I nodded, not even trying to hide my grimace. All the years of silence and that was the best she could do? “I needed a change.”
“Well, with your looks I suppose you can make anything work, can’t you?”
It was one of those awkward questions that didn’t require an answer, so I just shrugged.
“You were always the cutest baby. People used to stop me on the street to tell me how adorable you were. And now look at you, all grown up— a star.”
Her dreamy expression unsettled me. It was like staring into the eyes of a gushing fan, not my flesh and blood. Who exactly was she seeing when she looked at me— her son or a member ofAnyDayNow? Though my guard was already up, it sealed tighter.
“I heard about the fire and was so worried. Were you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine. Look, I don’t want to sound rude, but I have a lot of questions. Can we just skip the banter and get to it?”
Clearly ‘getting to it’ stressed her out. Clasping her hands, she knotted her fingers, eyes darting around to avoid my gaze. When she finally looked at me she swallowed hard, then nodded tentatively.
Now that I had her undivided attention, I jumped into the deep end without floaters. “Why did you leave me?”
She seemed stunned. Why, I wasn’t sure. Wouldn’t that be the first question you’d expect to be asked if you hadn’t seen your son in over twenty years?
“Is that what he told you, that I left you?”
The way she emphasizedhewith such bitter contempt, I imaged we were in for a rough ride.
“No, I drew my own conclusions since you’ve been absent my whole life.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I hope you understand that Tucker Beckett is not who you think he is. His real name is Eddie Watts. And where I come from, he’s a nobody.”
Indignation rose up on my father’s behalf and I wasn’t sure why. Probably because he was there. He’d stuck around. Which is more than I could say for the woman in front of me.
“He’s not your father, Bodhi,” she said flatly. “You’re not even blood related.”
I’d heard it before. She made sure to put it in her letter. But did she think that made a difference? Excused her in some way?
A scowl coated my features. “Tell me then. Who is Eddie Watts?”
“He’s my stepbrother. After you were born, I was struggling financially and I went to him for help. He took us in.”
