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The thing was, I wasn’t even mad about that part of his letter. I should be, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t even upset that he’d used me. I’d forgiven him long ago for using me before, and this thing with Anton… Well, I couldn’t find it in me to hate him for that either. Did the fact he’d done it stab me? Sure. No one wanted to be used, but I couldn’t find hate in my heart for it. The raw truth of the matter was Wolf had thought he was going to die. He was dying, and he’d attempted to do anything he could to not make that happen. Had it been shitty what he’d done? Of course, but there was no hate in my heart for that. Maybe that was because I loved him or because I had forgiven him for hurting me before. I just knew I didn’t feel the weight of that.
Not like I felt the weight of something else.
I’d asked him how I could get past another thing I’d realized. It was something that stabbed a million times worse than anything else he ever could have done. I could get past him using me to survive.
But accidentally falling in love with me…
That killed because I did feel like an accident. That he never did love me or never would have had it not been accidental. I fucking questioned his motives when all the fake-relationship stuff was going on. I had, and I’d never been a girl to be insecure about myself or my body, but that shit hurt. I didn’t want to feel insecure, but I did. He made me feel that way because he hadn’t wanted me from the beginning. Not really.
I’d been an accident.
I put the letter away, tinkering with my camera. I played with the ring Wolf had given me and was completely lost in thought. After Wolf and I had gotten to the cabin, I’d arranged to come back home to New York. There was still a little time left of break before school started, and I wanted to spend it with my own family. I hadn’t known what else to do or what would happen when I got back to school. Would Wolf and I be together? Could I make it work after he’d admitted what he had? I didn’t know. I just felt so goddamn vulnerable, hurt.
How can I get past it…
“Hey, sweetie, can you pass me that box?”
I’d nearly forgotten I was up in the attic with my mom. I’d come up here to help clean the dusty space of our brownstone townhouse with her but had ended up stuck in my head.
My mom was kind of adorable when she went all domestic. She had a handkerchief tied in her dark hair to keep the dust out of it like some 1950s housewife, but my mom was the exact opposite when it came to traditional gender roles. She was a woman of the world and very successful in her party-planning business. My stepdad did really well financially, but my mom had created a whole empire on her own. Actual celebrities called her for parties.
I got up, handing her the box she wanted. I apologized for spacing off, and she merely smiled at me before taking it.
“I’m just so happy I got to see you again so soon,” she said, and she had sounded surprised on the phone when I’d called. I’d told her I wanted to stay for the rest of break if she’d have me.
She had.
So much time had passed with me pushing my mother away. I’d closed myself off after my dad had died, but she was here now and letting me be in her space like no time had passed. She waited for me. She waited for me to heal and get better.
And I loved her for that.
I hugged her, and her light laughter let me know that surprised her too. She patted my back, just letting me hold her.
“What was that for, huh?” she questioned after I let go. She touched my face, and warmth flooded my cheek.
I touched her hand. “I guess I’m just grateful you’re letting me be here.” I paused, chewing my lip. “For just letting me after I stayed away for so long.”
She never pushed me to come home. She left that open, but never pushed. She was always around, waiting.
I blinked over cloudy eyes. “For waiting for me.”
I think she knew exactly what I meant. I had closed myself off from her and Anton in the past. They’d done nothing wrong, but I’d just felt so guilty. Guilty for everything with my dad. I hadn’t wanted to move on and be happy. My mom had found happiness after my dad. I loved that she had, but it’d been hard for me to allow myself to have that too.
I didn’t feel I deserved it.
Mom’s thumb brushed my cheek, her head cocked. “I knew you’d find your way, honey. Home to me and…” Her eyes crinkled warmly in the corners. “I’m just so proud of you. You’ve come such a long way. I mean, you’re in college now. Driving.” She shook my shoulders. “You’re doing so good, and your dad would be so proud of you. He never wanted you to suffer after everything that happened.”
My mom was there from the beginning of my struggles. She saw everything in its rawest form.
She got to see the growth too and had seen my gains. I’d called her after I had started driving again, and I did believe what she said about my dad. Someone else had told me the same thing and guided me to finally see that truth. Wolf had pushed me hard when it came to the responsibility I felt when it came to my father’s accident. He hadn’t let me run away and had helped address that guilt. He’d helped me heal.
My heart felt squeezed in that moment, choked. Regardless, I didn’t allow my mom to see and actually helped her clean out the attic.
“I recall a time we weren’t so sure you’d be able to go to college,” Mom said, and I did too. I mean, how could I forget? My grades had been crap in high school. I’d barely gone, and when I had, I’d done a crap job. Honestly, it was by the grace of God I’d even gotten into Pembroke University. I certainly shouldn’t have with my records. I’d been lucky that someone in admissions had taken a chance on me, and I never took that chance for granted. I was grateful for it every day. Mom smiled. “You’ve worked so hard for your sobriety.”
It was something I’d worked for every day. Things had been so dark in high school. I had turned to drugs and alcohol after Dad had passed when I probably should have turned to my mom. Gotten help. “Thank you for getting me into treatment.”
It’d been Mom to ultimately recognize I had a problem back then. I’d hid my disease well, but once she’d known about it, she’d gotten me the help I needed. She had without question or judgment.
