Page 115 of Worth the Fight

Except she isn’t looking at me like I was her.

She’s happy on her own. She’s seeing her worth on her own.

Who am I to ask her back here, to pull her away from her life and everything the confidence in her eyes says she will succeed at? Hold her back when fuck if that look on her face says she’s about to fly.

“I didn’t let her go. She wasn’t mine to keep,” I murmur, my fingers itching to touch the picture as if I can feel her skin when I do.

“And sometimes men are dumbasses who don’t see what’s right in front of their faces.”

* * *

“Oh. Wow. Look how far you’ve gotten on this place.”

I knew I heard tires crunch on the driveway, but when I look over to where my mom stands, she is by far the last person I expect to see standing in my backyard.

She walks around the playroom. It’s been framed, drywalled, and stuccoed. The roof is papered and shingles are loaded.

“It’s almost done,” I say and step back from where I’m working and stare at her. “That’s how long it’s been since you’ve been here.”

“I’ve been staying away,” she says as she runs her hand over the wall.

“And why’s that?” I chuckle, although I’m pretty sure I know.

“I was just trying to make sure you had your space.”

“Space? You mean privacy so I’d fall madly in love with Dylan, right?”

“No. I never⁠—”

“C’mon, Mom.” I tip my beer to my lips and shake my head. “You’re about as subtle as a flying brick.” I walk to the mini refrigerator I have plugged in and am surprised she accepts when I offer her a beer. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you once again, but she’s gone now.”

“Well, of course, she’s gone. Did you ask her to stay?”

“That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?” Jesus Christ. First Bowie and now my mom. But even with the thought, the photo flashes through my mind and twists up my insides.

“I don’t know about that. It’s my question, though.” She falls silent. “I saw Mallory at the store today.”

“Great.” Not sure why she’s telling me this.

“She said she hasn’t seen you in some time.”

“I’ve been a little busy.” I turn my back to her and pick up my tape measure.

“I know she’s typically your temporary bed partner, and I thought since⁠—”

I choke on air. “Christ, Mother.” I turn to face her. “Really? You really want to go there?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t think I’m dumb. I was young once and liked to have a little fun.” She blushes a bit, and as much as I abhor the thought of thinking about my mom having sex, I also love the shit out of her for trying to talk to me and get on my playing field. The woman has a heart of gold despite being determined to expand the Malone clan. “There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship now and again . . . so long as you’re safe. But Mal said she called you last week, and you didn’t return her call. She just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So what’s the question here? Am I okay? Why am I not sleeping with Mallory? Am I not sleeping with Mal because I’m still stuck on Dylan? What, Mom? Give me a roadmap here so I can figure out what your question is?” I run a hand through my hair and walk over to sit on the porch steps.

“You don’t need to be rude.” She traces the label on her beer before meeting my eyes. “I know you turned Mal down because she was temporary and Dylan was permanent.”

“Can’t be too permanent since she isn’t here.” There’s more bite to my tone than she deserves.

“I hate to see you hurting, Grady.”

“I’m not hurting. I know hurt. This is just . . . this is how it has to be.”