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“Yeah. I have to talk to Brady anyway.” Declan groaned as he got to his feet. He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he passed—another gesture of reassurance that I merely grunted to.
“What’s Sam doing?” I asked.
“Taking off your front bumper and hooking up your Jeep to tow back to Cedar Harbor,” she said. I sat a little taller. What the fuck had I done to my Jeep?
“Why?”
“You drove your Jeep into Brady’s garage.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I sank back in my chair, running a hand over my face. I couldn’t remember any of that. “How bad is it?”
“The Jeep or the garage?” she replied.
“The garage.” The right thing was to care about Brady’s house, considering everything he’d done for me.
“From the look of it,” Mom blew out a small breath, “you probably just took out the door. But Declan is going to work with Roan to assess the damage and get it all repaired.”
“Fuck. I’ll help.”
“I know you will.”
“And my Jeep?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.
“Driveable from Sam’s once over, but he doesn’t trust it until he’s done a thorough inspection. You’ll need a new bumper at the very least,” she explained. Jesus fuck. I slung an arm over my face. I needed a fucking minute. I didn’t remember any of that—which was bad fucking news. Had I hit someone else on the drive here? Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Your brothers will get your Jeep and your stuff back up north for you. I think it’s best if you come home again.”
“I know,” I whispered. I’d expected as much. And truthfully, with all the shit out there, I almost felt like I could conquer going back home. Almost was the keyword.
“You and me, we’ll stay back and sleep here for a few hours,” Mom told me. “You’re in no state to drive, and it’s been a very long day for me.”
“Are you taking me home?” I asked. “Or are you taking me to Olympia?”
“No, baby boy, I want you home with me,” she said. “At least for now.”
“Oh…”
“I think so much of what you’re going through comes from talking to no one about anything. I think now… I think now you can start relying on us more. I hope you can,” she replied. “I don’t want you to have to go back to the hospital, Killian, but you have to want to get better.”
“I don’t want to fucking feel this way,” I snapped, a growl vibrating in my chest at the accusation. Was it an accusation? It sure as fuck sounded like an accusation. “I’m not trying to. I’d do fucking anything to not feel like shit.”
“I know. I’m not saying that. I’m saying you need to work with David or someone new if you feel more comfortable. You need to go to AA meetings and therapy. You need to let us be the support system we’re trying to be. You need to stop trying to do it all alone.”
“I feel alone,” I admitted, defusing wildly. Fuck, I was all over the place.
“I know, baby boy, but I’m hoping that with us there … maybe you’ll start to feel less alone,” Mom said. “I can’t fix this for you. God knows how badly I wish I could. But I’ll be there for you as much as you’ll let me be. You’ll always have a home with me. Whatever you need.”
“You have a life, Mom.”
“You and your brothers are my life. Right now, you need me most.”
“You should be in Ireland,” I reminded her.
“I’m exactly where I want to be, Killian. Ireland isn’t going anywhere,” she told me.
“I’m not worth it.” I swallowed hard. I didn’t want her to stop living because I couldn’t get my shit together.
“Killian,” Mom brushed her fingers through my hair, “having a mental illness doesn’t make you unloveable. You are no less deserving of love than anyone else. If anything, you need to be loved a little harder to make up for the lies that your mind is telling you.”
Nodding, I bit my lower lip and used the pain to counteract the rising need to cry. I was so fucking tired of crying and breaking down.
