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It’s not until both men are gone from the room and their voices dwindle behind the closed door of Preston’s office on the other side of the great room that a gush of air empties from my lungs. I have to put both hands on the counter to brace myself as my legs turn to jelly.
Tears well in my eyes and I don’t hold them back. A therapist I once saw told me not to repress my emotions but rather to acknowledge the pain within them. She told me that was the best way for me to garner the strength I needed to leave Joshua.
But she was so very wrong. No matter how much I hate him, I can never leave. At least not as long as my father lives.
CHAPTER 3
Callum
I hold the straw to my mom’s lips so she can take a few sips of the ice water. She attempted some chicken broth for her breakfast a bit ago, but her appetite is almost nonexistent. The nurse assured me that’s typical coming out of surgery and some people don’t tolerate anesthesia that well.
Her surgery was almost twenty-four hours ago and I can’t help but worry that her lack of appetite is a bad omen. What’s worse, I’m not just worried it’s a physical thing, but probably emotional as well.
When I arrived this morning, she was sleeping. When she woke up, her first words to me were, “Is Preston here?”
I had to be calm and reassuring. “No, not yet.”
Truth is, I had no idea if that asshole would show up. The nurse told me that the only visitor my mother had other than me was Juniper. I’m burning with rage that Preston can’t be bothered to check on his wife, especially given my suspicion that he might be responsible for her injury.
“Want to try something else to eat?” I ask her. “Maybe some scrambled eggs?”
My mom wrinkles her nose and gives a very slight shake of her head, which immediately causes her to wince in pain. “Maybe later.”
“You need food for energy,” I remind gently.
“I know,” she admits with a wan smile. No attempts to try, no assurances she’ll eat later. Just she knows she needs food and doesn’t want it.
“Mom,” I say, reaching out to take her hand. It feels cold and lifeless against my palm. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” she whispers, her eyes darting away.
There’s no time to beat around the bush. “Did Preston hit you? Push you down?”
“No,” she replies, her gaze coming back to me because she hears the promise of retribution in my voice. “I must have tripped on the steps and fallen.”
I think she’s lying, but I didn’t expect her to fess up after all these years of protecting him.
I cover our clasped hands with my other one and lean forward in my chair. “Mom… you don’t have to tell me anything. But if you want to leave Preston when you’re better, I’ll get you out of there. You can come live with me in Pittsburgh, or I’ll buy you a place here. But you do not have to stay with him.”
I’ve made that offer before and she’s never accepted.
But hell, she’s never had brain surgery before either.
My mom clears her throat and her eyes become a little steely. “I love you, Callum, and I appreciate your concern. But please understand this… no matter what you think, I love Preston. I’ve had a good life with him and while we’ve had our fights like any couple might—”
“—fights between a husband and wife don’t involve fists,” I interject.
She ignores me. “Even though we have fights, they are few and far between. I like my life and I’m content. I won’t leave him.”
“Even if he almost killed you?” I ask, astounded, because although she hasn’t said it outright, her little admission about fights being few and far between tells me all I need to know.
“That’s you who thinks that, not me,” she chides, and I briefly have a complete lack of respect for my mom. She did her best for me when she and my dad divorced. I know that. Just as I know she had room to do so much better because while her standing might have improved when she married Preston, mine did not.
But right now, her unwillingness to care about herself enough to want better disarms me.
“I’m tired,” she says, tugging her hand from mine. “Do you think you could call Preston and find out when he’s going to come visit? It might be that he doesn’t want to come up here because you’re visiting. So maybe give him some space to come see me?”
The same sense of despondency I would have for my mom when I was younger hits me hard in the center of my chest. This is her life and she’s not willing to change it.
