2
Steph
Howlongdoesittake to forget your first love?
The answer is forever.
Never.
I’m still shaking hours later.
I’m honestly not even sure how I drove myself home, what with the waves of nausea and trembling that overtook me earlier and wouldn’t let up.
It’s adrenaline,I think.
A natural fight or flight response I was unable to acknowledge, for there was no way I was going to confront him, nor could I make an escape while seated at the head table as a bridesmaid for one of my dearest friends on her wedding day.
My muscles ache as I climb from the car, and I drop my keys twice before I’m able to insert them into the lock and push open the front door.
Geez, Steph, get a hold of yourself!
I suck in a deep breath and exhale it loudly before stepping across the threshold, steeling myself for the possibility that one or both of my sons might still be up and playing video games in the living room. I’d hate for either of them to see me in my current state. Matt and Alex were with me at the wedding earlier, of course, but with no other guests their own age there, they were happy to sneak away hours ago before the dancing got started.
Sure enough, the glow of the TV greets me as I move into the entry. Steadying myself against the wall, I’m finally able to toe off my heels. The balls of my feet throb gratefully, and the relief I feel as I press my bare feet to the cool hardwood is almost enough to distract me from … well, what happened tonight.Whohappened.
When nobody calls out a greeting, I take another few fortifying breaths, willing my racing heart to slow and my shivers to dissipate, then pad softly into the living room and peek over the back of the sofa. Matt is passed out and drooling on one of my throw pillows—the purple one, damn him, that’s dry clean only. Don’t ask me why I thought it was a good idea to have anythingin a home with two teen boys that requires dry cleaning, but sometimes a woman needs to treat herself, and that stupid pillow really spoke to me the other day at Home Haven with Piper.
I smile down at the sleeping form of my eldest son, allowing the sight of him to soothe my frayed nerves. Sixteen and about to start his junior year at Llyn Lakes High, but still my baby. Always will be.
I take a moment to study him. He was delighted to have made the football team last year, and despite my concerns for his safety, I was damn proud of him. He’s spent the last month in training camp and is excited to have made the starting lineup for this upcoming season. And all his hard work shows. I feel a twinge of … melancholy, I guess, as I take him in, noticing how much he’s changed. All long-limbed and broad-shouldered. His body is filling out, and he has noticeable biceps muscles where before there were none. Or maybe I hadn’t allowed myself to see until now. His hands are large. Like his father’s, I think fleetingly. Able to catch a hard pass and run it into the end zone on increasingly powerful legs.
Wistfulness—that’s what it is I’m feeling. Wistfulness, and … something else. Something I’m not prepared to deal with right now.
Or ever.
Yep, never sounds good.
He’s growing up, though, becoming a man.
And I’m not ready.
The nighttime talk show playing in the background switches to a commercial, and the discrepancy in volume between the ad and the program blares alarmingly into the room. I jump at the suddenness of it, letting out a little yelp. Why do theydothat?! It’s not like my nerves aren’t completely shot already. If they think making it annoyingly loud is going to help grab people’s attention, they are dead wrong. It’s just another reason to hit the fast-forward button, as far as I’m concerned.
Matt cracks an eye open at the noise—mine or the TV’s, I’m not sure—and gives me a half smile.
“Mom?” His voice is scratchy from sleep.
“Yeah, baby, it’s just me.”
He blinks up at me through bleary eyes and frowns.
“Are you alright?” he asks, focusing on my face. I nod, glancing away.
“Mm-hmm. I’m okay, Matty,” I reassure him in a whisper. “Just tired. I’m gonna get to bed. You should too.”
He hums in agreement, and then he grunts, shoving himself up to a seated position. I lean in and place a quick kiss to his forehead, something that, were he fully awake, he’d likely duck to avoid. As a mother, I have to seize these opportunities when they present themselves. Then, I turn on my heel and scurry down the hall. Slipping into my bedroom, I close the door and rest my head against it for a long moment.
In the safety of my darkened bedroom, I allow myself to recall the exact moment I felt his eyes on me tonight—the moment when I knew. Somehow, I just knew.
