His thoughts were so lost that he didn’t immediately look at her. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear her frustration, he did. He always heard everything she said. For whatever reason, his mother was the guiding voice inside his head, whether he liked it or not. But while in the internal throes of the pity party of his life, this despondent approach had become his new norm.
“Darling, if we’re going to have lunch, then let’s have lunch.” She spoke in the motherly tone of utter patience when she really had none. “If you’re going to fiddle with your great-grandmother’s figurines, then I’m going to call this done and get back to work.” She folded her napkin and placed it on the table beside her plate but didn’t budge from her seat.
She was bluffing. They both knew it.
What she did have was a tight schedule. She’d been generous with her time today, fitting him in for a quick lunch. But if he kept dawdling like this, what held the most risk to him was getting wrangled into picking up Cara, his littlest half sister, from elementary school. He fought the shiver racing up his spine at the horror of that awful school pickup line.
That reminder motivated him enough to finally head in the direction of the kitchen table. His mother had prepared her favorite lunch meal and what she believed to be his favorite too. Tuna salad. Her recipe had bite-size pieces of fruit mixed with Miracle Whip—her secret ingredient. One that Chad could do without.
“You’re being a sad sack, my favorite son. And you have been for several days now. You’re bringing my mood down.”
He ignored everything but the obvious and playfully glared at her. “I’m your only son, Mom.”
The tease worked as her napkin went to her lap again. She reached for her fork and took a big bite of the salad. “Mmm…”
He took his seat, and did the same, taking a hearty bite. He reached for the mango-flavored unsweet iced tea.
“Cate told me you’re the most hated villain on social media these days. You know that’s not the real world, right?” she said and lifted her eyes, staring directly at him before taking another bite. That was the thing about having parents who pioneered the development of social media, he’d always been taught to keep the viral world at a distance.
Now that Secret by Wilder had been dragged into the mess he’d caused, Chad wondered if all the negative press might now matter more. It didn’t. Not to anyone in their family, including Tristan. Social media was a make-believe land. A place that didn’t really exist or hold true merit. Designed only to keep up with family and friends.
“I remember, Mom.” Chad placed the fork down, his stomach turning at the idea of eating more food. All the engrained manners his mother instilled into him as a child rose to the surface, at least while he was inside her home. He lifted the napkin to his lips as he got to his feet again, needing the movement.
His appetite had gone to shit. He was losing weight and quite possibly losing his mind. A restlessness coursed through his veins. Teri took the bite on her fork with her gaze following him as he moved. “I don’t think the world could hate me more than I hate myself. What’s happening to me, Mom?”
She chewed quickly. Alarm replaced the patience she usually held while dealing with him.
“Wait. That was dramatic. I didn’t literally mean I hate myself so get that look off your face. I’m fine, I guess.” The explanation didn’t come as easy as all the self-loathing. He went back to the chair, pulling it out farther from the table and plopping down in the seat. He propped his elbows on his knees. His head hung as he stared at the tiled floor. “I don’t want to golf anymore.”
Saying it out loud had him lifting his back against the seat, feeling like an utter failure. Who spent years working on their goals only to abandon them to the wind?
“Is that all?” she asked, incredulously.
“Isn’t that enough?” Chad asked at the ridiculousness of her question. He propelled himself out of the chair, pacing the length of the small space. “I’ve been golfing since I was four years old. It’s been my whole life since I graduated from college. Y’all dumped so much money into my success so I could follow my dreams.”
“And you did follow your dream, dear. And you’ve paid us back some pretend number you came up with in your head when we insisted you didn’t have to. Chad, you did it. You reached your goals. You always do. You’re unstoppable when something gets inside your head.” Classic Mom. She had a way of easily seeing all the angles to tie them up in a pretty little motivational, supporting bow.
He bet that pissed her counterparts off in the courtroom. It grated on his nerves right now, and she was literally his closest friend.
“You’ve always set almost impossible goals for yourself. You work hard to reach the outcome you want then move on. It’s how you’ve always been since you were a little boy. Remember those cliff divers at the river? We were horrified when you ran headfirst, full steam ahead, and flung your little body off the side of the cliff.”
Of course, he didn’t remember. That happened twenty years ago. He was five years old. The stunt resulted in a broken arm and a goose egg the size of a kiwi on his head, or so the story went. His father had run after him, diving straight into the water, most likely saving Chad’s life. That part of the story was etched into his memory.
“But that’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?” she asked, continuing to read him like a book, getting to the real reason he’d come by today. “Is it Tristan’s offer?”
What? He threw his hands in the air. Of course, she knew about the offer. Their small family was like a small town. They all knew each other’s secrets. The whole reason he kept his private matters so close to his chest.
“No…” Chad hedged. What did it say about him that he hadn’t even considered such a significant offer since it had been given?
That alone showed how fucked in the head he was.
“Do you want me to continue to guess?” she asked. “Those trousers don’t really match the cut of your sweater. Do we need to go shopping? Is that it?”
Her silliness fell over him like a ton of bricks. “Mom. Don’t trivialize this. I think I need serious counseling. Maybe a mental health inpatient stay somewhere. I’m a wreck. It’s…”
His mom’s throaty chuckle drew Chad’s frustrated gaze toward her. If she planned to laugh at him, he could go talk to one of his sisters about his problems. Chloe, in fact. She never gave him a break on anything.
“Babe, I have lived with Reeves men for most of my adult life. I raised children with one. Your grandmother, your nana, has told me things about her experience with your grandfather. I promise, whatever is happening to you is within your ability to control.” She lifted her fork again, preparing another bite as if that bit of advice solved everything. “You only have to be willing to face your problem head on. Reeves men aren’t cowards. Deal with it.”
