Shayne
I’m blurry eyed with exhaustion as I ease off the freeway and into the upscale residential neighborhood I grew up in. It’s early, so there’s not a lot of traffic. My mom hardly sleeps, so I know she’ll be up, even though it’s not even seven yet. My dad will still be asleep. He’s always been a late sleeper. I lay awake half the night last night, which is why I’m heading to their house so early. I want to tell my mom what’s happening. She has a right to know. And I want to confront my father and tell him I know and that I don’t approve. It won’t make a difference to him, but I want to do it anyway. Fighting with him is still better than sitting at home thinking about Sebastian.
My mind and my heart are stuck on Sebastian. I feel like I had a right to be upset with him for hiding my father’s infidelity from me. And in a way, when he said he was going to let me go, and I realized there would be no chase this time, it felt like a relief. A horrible relief. It’s the only way I can describe it. I no longer have to take risks with my heart. I don’t have to go against my safe, simple nature and trust this wild, complex hockey player. But at the same time, deep down where it counts, in the dark recesses of my jaded little heart, I don’t want to go back to safe and simple. I don’t even know if I can anymore.
I turn onto the street I grew up on. Nothing’s changed here in years except maybe the trees have gotten taller. The oak in the front yard of our place used to be shorter than our second level. Now it eclipses the second floor, fully shadowing what had been my bedroom window. I pull into the driveway behind my mom’s car and put Seb’s car in park.
I ring the bell and look up toward the security camera I know is hidden in the bottom of the porch light. My dad installed it when he was still playing and would be away for long periods of time. My mom swings open the door, still in a set of gray silk pajamas and slippers with a dark lavender bathrobe over them. “Shayne! Are you okay?”
I don’t know how to answer that. So I don’t. “Can I come in?”
She nods and holds the door wider. “Of course.”
I step into the house I’ve been avoiding for years. It looks different. She’s redecorated since the last time I was here. The dark carpet that was in the entryway when I was growing up is now espresso wood. The walls, which were cream, are now a pure white with dark wood crown molding.
“Dad still sleeping?” I ask and try not to sound so hopeful, but I don’t want to see him.
“I was just having coffee. Can I get you some? We have an amazing coffee machine,” she gushes and puts a hand on my back, guiding me toward the kitchen at the back of the house, as if I won’t remember where it is. “I don’t ever go to Starbucks anymore. I can be my own barista.”
The kitchen has been redone too. It’s now all white—cabinets, floors, walls, with a gorgeous blue glass tile backsplash and stainless-steel appliances. “This is gorgeous, Mom.”
She beams. “Thanks! I picked out everything myself. Your dad wanted a designer, but I have an eye for these things. I think it’s perfect.”
“It is,” I agree and sit at the breakfast bar.
“Let me make you a latte. Caramel or vanilla?” She smiles so brightly I can’t say no. And her grin deepens when I tell her caramel because she remembers that’s my favorite flavor of anything.
My heart starts to ache again, but this time not for the loss of Sebastian. For my mom. She loves me, and I’ve been punishing her for her choices that really have nothing to do with me. And I know I’ll want to do it again if she reacts the way I think she’ll react when I tell her what I know. I watch her quietly as she putters about the pristine kitchen, hitting switches and moving dials on the large built-in coffee machine on the counter next to the stove.
She puts the steamy mug with perfect foam down on the counter in front of me and picks up her own half-empty one from before I got here and leans on the counter in front of me. I sip the drink and smile at her because it’s delicious. She smiles back, victorious.
“Mom, you didn’t answer me. Is Dad still asleep?”
She shakes her head. “He stayed in the city last night.”
I stare at her and she stares at her coffee mug. This conversation isn’t going to be painful for her. She already knows. I can tell. I can feel it in my bones. “How long has it been going on?”
She finally looks up from her coffee. She looks tired, emotionally. “I realized he was seeing Lacey again last week. I think it started when they saw each other at the jersey ceremony.”
“I thought it was because he was playing. He was on the road and the lifestyle was too hard and athletes had too much tension and energy to exude,” I say and place my mug a little too roughly on the counter, so it clanks loudly. “Well, he’s not a fucking athlete anymore.”
My mom takes a deep breath. “No he’s fucking not an athlete anymore,” she agrees, and her voice has an edge to it I’ve never heard before, not to mention the fact that she swore—and let me swear. “Now I have no excuses for him. He’s just a plain old cheater.”
I feel like she should cry. But she doesn’t. She looks, scarily, like she doesn’t give a shit. She levels me with a stare. “Shayne, I know you don’t approve and I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anyone to. The fact is, I loved your father, but I loved what he could give me even more. And I’m paying the price for that.”
“Mom, it’s never too late to fix things,” I tell her softly. “Leave him. Find someone who will love you. You deserve it.”
She smiles at me, but it’s rueful, and then she lifts herself off the counter and smooths her mussed hair. “Your dad loves me. He’s just not in love with me. I don’t know if he ever was. But like I said, I was in love with the fact that he got me out of my small town and off my parents’ farm more than I was in love with him, so I guess we’re even. And I got what I wanted.” She runs her hand along the smooth marble countertop, giant diamond wedding ring glinting in the sun coming through the window. “Everything money could buy, and most important, he gave me you and Trey. Believe it or not, that’s what I am most grateful for.”
She picks up her mug again and takes a sip of her coffee before turning to look out the window and over her massive backyard with the pool and spa. “Besides, it won’t last with Lacey. Or the next one he finds. I’m what lasts. I’m the glue that keeps him together and he knows that. This isn’t everyone’s version of love, but it’s ours.”
I stare at her in awe and horror. Growing up, my mother told us she loved us almost every day. She told us to love each other too, but I realize now there is a very distinct difference between being told to do something and seeing something happen. I didn’t see or feel love actually happening in my house. I saw jealousy and lies and denial and anger. Their version of love was the only thing I experienced, and it’s left me without the ability to trust or love someone completely.
“What if I can never trust anyone?” I feel the hot tears slip down my cheeks.
She walks around the island and hugs me, and I don’t fight it for the first time since I was young. “Don’t let our mistakes be your downfall, Shaynie. Please.”
“I think it’s too late.”
