Page 6 of Addiction

I smile. “They let me out early, and Mark picked me up.”

“You know I would have collected you. Even Gray or Nora. You didn’t have to ask Mark.”

“I know. But I needed to adjust to being out in the real world again. I’ve just spent an hour at Oceanfront, getting my head straight.”

The little crease is back again, but I don’t respond to it. Instead, I pull her in for another hug and kiss the top of her head. “Are you still needing to head out?”

“What?” She pulls away, now realizing I’ve disrupted her from whatever it was she was about to do. “Yes. No. I was just off for a little walk, but it can wait. My boy is more important. Come in. I’ll make us something to drink.”

I step into the house and look around like I’m some stranger, Mom now fussing over me like I’m a ten-year-old boy.

“Have you eaten? I can make you some pancakes. Do you want them? Or maybe something else? I can make you something else. I don’t mind. Just say and I’ll make whatever you’re wanting.”

I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She seems more nervous than me right now. “Mom. Breathe. I’m good. I’m not hungry.”

She holds my gaze and tears fill her eyes once more. “I’m sorry, Asher. I’m just… I’m just so happy you’re home. I’ve got both my children back within reach.”

I swallow, trying not to fall apart myself. I’d seen her a few times in St Brides Correctional when she’d demanded she needed to visit. I’d seen the bravery in her eyes as she’d held it together. But standing in front of me now, there is nothing but unconditional love, appreciation, and pride.

Reaching out, I pull her into my hold once more, letting her know everything I can’t find the words to say. But the words that leave her next make my chest tight and my jaw clench as guilt rips through my veins.

“Your father would have been so proud of you, Asher.”

No, he wouldn’t. Not after everything I’ve done.

How can a man I’ve always looked up to be proud of me when I’ve torn his family to shreds?

How can he be proud of me after what I did to his daughter?

How can he be proud of me when I failed him in his weakest moments?

All I’d wanted growing up was for him to be proud, and all I’ve done is repay him in the worst possible way.

“I love you, Mom,” are the only words that fall from my lips as I try and rid this feeling that is suddenly suffocating me.

Pulling back, she places her hand on my cheek and smiles softly. “I love you, too. Now, I’m going to go make those pancakes. Because even with a full stomach you still used to eat them.”

I chuckle. She’s not wrong. I’ve always made room for them. Both myself and Grayson—my best friend—would always eat dozens in one sitting if we could.

Now alone, I take the opportunity to look around the place, familiarizing myself with being back. Everything remains the same as I remember: a contrast of gray and white furnishings and the hardwood floor of the living room. The last family portrait is up on the wall along with a photo of Grayson and Nora holding their beautiful daughter—my niece—who I’m yet to officially meet. I take it all in, walking around the space and smiling to myself as I listen to Mom singing to herself in the kitchen.

“Are you wanting a coffee?”

“Please,” I shout back, stopping at the mantelpiece. Picking up the gold photo frame, I study the photo of my dad. He looks so young, standing proud as a navy SEAL and representing his country. The fear I’d felt as a young boy when he was deployed used to silently tear me apart. I’d count down the days on the calendar, while at night, I’d look out of my bedroom window and talk to the stars in the sky, asking them to bring my dad home safe. And when they did, I would thank them once more. Then I’d listen to the stories Pop would tell me about what it was like being in the military, the adrenaline he’d feel when fighting a war, holding a gun and the responsibility of that. Even with the anxiety of not having him home, all of that would be washed away when I heard those stories. And as time passed on, I’d wanted to be more and more like my father. I’d been eight when I knew I wanted to be a SEAL, and those stories with Pop changed into him helping me get strong.

The child in me had thought that was great, even if—looking back—it had been simply riding a bike or a game of basketball in the backyard. Whatever it was, though, Pop would have me believe it was what I’d needed to get me on the journey to becoming a SEAL. I’d loved those times with him, and even when he’d been deployed, I’d continued the routines he set out for me because I’d wanted to make him proud.

Along with Pop in the military, my childhood had also come with regular disappointment and heartache for my parents. They’d wanted another child, and I’d wanted a sibling.

But life isn’t always straightforward, and after numerous miscarriages and failed IVF rounds, heartache became all too familiar in the Nelson house.

We’d all given up hope, and I’d got used to life as an only child. Then, ten years on with the unexpected delivery of my baby sister, our family had become complete. Yet something inside me had changed. I was older then and it had suddenly felt like all of Pop’s attention was on his daughter. I’d seen the look in my father’s eyes when he’d be around her, I’d heard the love in his voice when he'd spoken of her, and I’d questioned if he’d ever looked at me and spoken of me the same way. Stupid, I know—I’d obviously had what Nora had—but the questions had been there.

I‘d been jealous.

So, instead of making him proud of the son he had, I’d channeled everything into being the son who protected his baby daughter. I’d promised him I would protect Nora as a brother like he would protect her as a father, because I was desperate to see that look of pride in his eyes like I saw when he looked at her. Despite my conflicted feelings, I loved—still love—my sister with my life. She was the family’s little miracle and with the age gap, my protectiveness had been inevitable. But as time went on, it only seemed to smother her, and by that point, I hadn’t known how to hold back.

So, I felt like I’d failed what I’d set out to do.