“Your father never raised a hand to your brother,” she pushes out, hands trembling as they fall to her lap.
“The bar isn’t that low, Mom. He didn’t need to hit him physically to hurt him. To make him feel so low and unloved and disposable. He’s treated Wes like nothing more than a money funnel for years, and I’m not accepting that anymore. If you won’t protect him, then I will.”
“Your father isn’t a villain. He took care of you both and raised you right. Expecting him to be perfect is not fair when we’ve never expected that of you,” she argues.
“Never? Have you been that blind?” I shift on my chair, scooting to the edge as my hand moves in front of me, fisting my cold cup. “I love you, Mom, but I’ve sat back and allowed this to happen for too long already. I watched Dad drain the life out of Wes while sitting back and convincing myself that it was just tough love and that he’s strong enough to weather it. I’d gaslighted myself into believing that Dad would wake up one day and realize that he’s been too hard on him and finally see that Wes has already done everything he’d ever wanted him to, despite the pressure he put on him. That day hasn’t come, and it won’t.
“I’ve forced Wes into Dad’s clutches too many times, and I will regret that for the rest of my life. Now, I know that he’s better off away from him. From both of you.”
Mom’s lip wobbles before her knuckles press against it. “Don’t say that to me, Brielle. Not here. Don’t be cruel.”
“Cruel? You thinkthisis cruel?” I sputter, staring like I’ve never seen her before. Or maybe I’m finally seeing the truth. The realization that I’ve been so focused on reminiscing on the past that I’ve ignored the present. The pain that I was kept blissfully ignorant of. “You have no idea what cruel is.”
“I hope we’re not interrupting such an enlightening conversation.”
My head snaps to the side. I have to strain my neck to look up at the two men now standing beside my chair. Wes isn’t looking at me, but rather, Mom. There’s nothing warm about the way he’s acknowledging her, as if maybe he heard more of the conversation than she’d have ever hoped he would. ThanIhoped.
But the man beside my brother, standing tall and confident and so, so handsome in a pair of dark-washed jeans, a plain white shirt, and a forward ball cap, is Roman.
Roman’s here with Wes, of all people.
After five days, I’m seeing him standing at my brother’s side,in front of my mom, and all I want to do is jump up and into his arms. I’ve missed him so desperately this last week. To the point I considered buying a plane ticket and flying to him only one day after he left.
The only reason I stayed away this long was because I knew that regardless of how badly I wanted to be with him, when I saw him again, it was going to be with a confident answer to give. No take backs or bartering.
I meant what I said about our future in his garage, and over the last week, I’ve realized that what I’ve wanted my entire life—what I’ve dreamed of and hoped for—is already mine. All I have to do is forget the past and say yes to a future with him.
And that conversation wasn’t going to happen in a hotel room.
I needed to deal with my shit first, which is why I asked Mom to meet me here today. It was all so I could move forward.
“Wesley,” Mom whispers, her expression dipping for a brief moment before she’s painting on a smile and pulling the chair closest to her out from beneath the table. “Please sit with us. I didn’t know you were back home. You played so well yesterday. I even heard Susan from next door cheering from her living room as she watched.”
She clearly hasn’t registered Roman’s presence, and for some reason, that pisses me off. He hasn’t taken his dark eyes off me since I looked up, as if maybe he’s waiting for an invitation to join. Or to be ordered to leave.
I clear my throat and lay my hot palm on the back of the last empty chair at the table. It’s opposite to the one Mom’s pulled out for Wes at the small square table. Close to me but still too far.
“Sit,” I say, my voice strained with nerves. “Please.”
His cheek twitches. I track every movement he makes as he rounds my chair and takes the one I’ve offered. The scrape of chair legs against the pavement cuts through the air when I drag myself closer to him, unable to help myself. Our knees brush beneath the table, and my heart jumps, so fucking needy. He holds my gaze, those addicting, deep brown eyes seeing right through me. Then, his hand is on my thigh, right back to the spot he always keeps it when we’re in the car or sitting side by side on the couch.
It’s impossible to hold back my smile. It spreads like a wildfire until my entire face is burning.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, his voice nothing more than a soft caress on my skin.
I don’t care that we’re in public or that we haven’t discussed this aspect of our relationship. There’s no need to debate it. I want him everywhere, no matter who’s around.
“I didn’t know you were back yet.”
He hooks his foot around a leg of my chair and scoots me closer until I’m seated near the corner of the table. The scent of his cologne hits me, and I have to swallow a moan.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Alright, before the two of you start making out right here, you should introduce your boyfriend to Mom, Brielle,” Wes tells him, humour lining every word.
Finally, I tear my eyes from Roman. Wes is sitting on my other side, his posture rigid despite his attempt at a joke. I don’t have the chance to try and soothe him before Mom’s talking.
“Boyfriend?”
