She levels me with an annoyed stare. “I can walk. It’s been weeks since the surgery. And your dad wanted to chat with Ethan, so I tagged along.”
She pulls me in for a hug, enveloping me in her signature Dior perfume.
When she steps back, her brows knit as her eyes take me in. “You look tired. Is everything okay?”
I manage a smile, hoping to deflect. “Just a long day, that’s all. You know how busy this time of the year gets for me.”
Her frown deepens, and I know she’s not buying it. She has a sixth sense for sniffing out drama, especially when it involves her kids.
The truth is, I’m running on barely any sleep. After Layla brought up the dead body, I ended up watching the news special on it. Now that stupid note is haunting me even more. I can’t get it out of my head, and since the interns have been on spring break, I haven’t been able to confront them about it either. I was up all night last night, tossing and turning with ridiculous scenarios playing out in my head. Worse, my imagination insisted on casting Dominic as the hero—a detail I won’t be sharing with anyone, but especially not my mom.
“Would this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her brows waggle, her smile comically wide. She’s about a subtle as a freight train.
I breathe out a groan, forcing myself to summon the restraint to keep my frustration in check. “You just had to invite him to dinner, didn’t you?”
If she hadn’t invited him to dinner, I never would’vefound out about the house, and I never would’ve shown up, embarrassing myself more than I thought possible.
I’d still be completely content living without the knowledge that he boughtourhouse.
I was honest when I told Dominic I hadn’t been by in years—almost ten years.
When I think of Sullivan Ridge House, I think of us. A place where we shared everything, where we dreamed, where we made plans.
Since our breakup, it’s stood in my mind as a representation of everywhere I fall short. Too cowardly to be honest. Too broken to ever be whole. Too stubborn to admit I’m wrong. And worst of all, too late.
I’m better off alone. At least then, there’s no one to disappoint but myself.
My mom’s expression softens. “I should have told you. It was wrong of me to go behind your back, but it’s so hard not meddling. I know it’s wrong, and I do it anyway.”
I know she means well—she’s not malicious—but she needs to leave this alone. She can’t right my wrongs, as much as I know she wants to. The past is in the past, and that’s where it needs to remain.
“Well, stop. Please. You can’t push us together like we’re puppets. Leave him alone. No one forced him to move back here, it’s not your responsibility to lay out the welcome wagon for him.”
As she crosses her arms, her expression hardens a fraction. “Elyse, he just lost his dad, and his family doesn’t live in the area anymore. I would think you of all people would know how badly he needs some support.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the guilt churning in my stomach. “Supporting him doesn’t have to mean inserting him into every part of my life. He and I are…complicated.”
She tilts her head, giving me the kind of look that leaves me feeling too exposed. “Complicated doesn’t mean unsalvageable. Sometimes, it’s just another word for unfinished.”
I suck in a breath, hating how easily she can poke holes in my defenses. “I’m not interested in trying,” I say, barely above a whisper, looking away.
I don’t understand how I can hold so strong in my resolve to not let Dominic in, and my mom can wash it away in seconds, as if I was never strong to begin with.
“You can’t avoid him forever, you need to talk to him, to tell him.” she says, gentler than I deserve, running a reassuring hand up and down my arm.
I’ve blocked so much of that time out of my mind, the memories too painful to confront, sometimes I forget how much she knows—how much she was there for.
“Life is short,” she continues. “And pretend all you want, but you and I both know you never got over that boy.” I look down, anywhere to avoid my mom’s eyes, my skin prickling from the intensity of this conversation. The urge to fake an appointment or phone call just to escape, pulls at me, but I resist it, knowing she would see right through it.
“I don’t even know where to start—what to say.”
Rather than answer me right away, she wraps me in a tight hug. Normally, too much affection overwhelms me, but in this instance, I don’t resist it, letting myself sink into her embrace.
“You don’t have to keep holding onto whatever hurt you’re carrying.” Her voice is muffled against me, but too clear to convince myself I didn’t hear every word. “Getting it all out in the open will be relieving. Some things you can’t avoid forever, they’ll eat you alive otherwise.”
CHAPTER 18
Dominic
