I take her in, the reality of the missed years slamming into me all at once. She’s grown older since I left. Not just that, she looks weak. The dress she’s wearing swallows her frail body, hanging from her shoulders. Her face is leaner, and when her lips curl into a smile, the wrinkles become even more prominent around her eyes and mouth. Her hands are pale, and her once vibrant red hair is gone, the gray strands are neatly braided and falling over one shoulder.
I bite the inside of my cheek just as she comes to me, her arms wrapping around my middle as she pulls me into a hug. My mouth falls open, a shaky breath escaping me as I standhere, dumbfounded. Slowly, so impossibly slowly, I pull her into a hug, afraid I’m going to hurt her if I squeeze too tight.
I inhale deeply, expecting to find that familiar scent of wildflowers, sunshine, and cookies I remember from my childhood, but it’s gone, and the loss of it makes the ache in my chest grow stronger.
Four years.
It’s been four years since I’ve seen my mother.
You chose to stay away,I remind myself.It’s nobody’s fault but your own.
I blink, chasing away the blurriness clouding my eyes, when my gaze connects with familiar amber irises.
All the air is knocked out of my lungs as we just stare at one another—not breathing, not blinking.
Jessica’s expression is unreadable as she watches us silently from her chair. My ears are buzzing as my mind works, trying to figure out what’s going on.
What is she doing here?
But before I can delve deeper into trying to figure it out, Mom pulls back. Her smile is bigger now, her brown eyes shining with excitement as she takes me in. Her hands cup my face. Her skin is rough against mine as she stares at me with tears in her eyes. “You’ve grown so big.”
That vise grip around my heart tightens, making it hard to breathe. My voice is raspy as I force the words out. “Hey, Mom.”
She shakes her head slowly, as if she’s still in disbelief. Although, who can blame her considering I haven’t been home in years?
“You look so much like your father.”
The whispered words are like a punch to my gut. The tears shimmer in her eyes, making bile rise in my throat and leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
The guilt that’s been swallowing me whole all these years comes back in full force, stronger than ever.
This is all my fault. Losing my father. Mom being here. Her tears and pain. It’s all my fault.
Once again, she hugs me, holding tightly for a long moment before releasing me. Her smile wobbles slightly, and she wipes away a tear that slips down her cheek.
“Come, sit.” She points to the seat next to Jessica on a little couch in the corner of the room. “When did you come home?”
“I’ll leave you two—” Jessica starts to get up, but Mom waves her off.
“Nonsense. Jessy, I want you to meet my son, Matthew.” Her brow furrows for a moment as she glances between us. “Or maybe you know each other? You should be around the same age, if I remember correctly.” She chuckles softly at her own joke. “My memory isn’t the best in my old age.”
“Oh, please, you’re doing just fine.” Mom smiles at Jessica, who forces a tight grin as her amber eyes bounce to me before she looks away. “Not really. It’s nice to meet you.”
Seriously? That’s how she’s going to play this?
Fine, I’ll play along.
I extend my hand toward her as I stop in front of her, forcing her to look at me unless she wants to come off as rude. “Matthew Williams.”
The muscle in her jaw tics as she slowly lifts her gaze, her narrowed eyes throwing daggers at me. It takes her a heartbeat, but she places her hand in mine. Her skin is warm under my touch, and that familiar zap of electricity sizzles to life between us the moment our fingers brush.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Jessica.”
The corner of my mouth tips upward as irritation sparks in her eyes for a split second before she quickly pulls her hand back. “Likewise.”
Her tense smile doesn’t hide the real meaning behind her words that sounds much more like a “fuck you.”
“Matthew is my youngest,” Mom explains as she takes a seat in the armchair, and the proud tone of her voice makes that uneasy feeling return. “He left for college a few years ago.” She smiles at me. “How long are you staying?”
