Page 112 of True Colors

“Still my boy,” Mom counters pertly.

I drink my whiskey.

“How are you doing?” Mom asks.

“Like shit.”

“Oh, baby.”

Mom comes up to me. I stand and hug her.

I press my forehead into her hair and close my eyes. “I fucked up,” I whisper.

“I know.” She strokes my back. “I know, baby.”

“Christ!” Dad mutters. “Hann, he’s not a child.”

“Oh, shush,” Mom scolds him.

“Yeah, Dad, shush,” I add teasingly, soaking in my mother’s comfort.

My parents have never been the kind who think their children are perfect—in fact, they’re both eager to tell Ria and me how we can be better people. Constructive criticism is alive and thriving in the Grant household.

Regardless, I know that my parents will always be on my team. They might be kicking me for being in the wrong, but they’ll still have my back.

For a minute there, Anouk thought I had her back—but I didn’t.

The devastation on her face makes me crumble into my mother some more. Anouk has no one, just Finn, and she thought I was her person until I royally screwed her over.

“Enough of the sob fest,” Dad calls out. “Sit your asses down.”

Mom settles next to me on an armchair, holding my hand.

She looks at me the way she used to when I was a kid with a skinned knee, waiting for me to tell her how badly it hurts.

“Have you seen her since?” Mom asks.

“Yes.”

“And?” Dad leans forward.

“And I apologized, and she told me to get lost.” I pick up my drink with my free hand and look at the amber liquid.

“Well, obviously.” Mom drops my hand on my lap and pats it.

I make a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “What was I thinking? Now, when I look back and hear myself…God! I told her she’s a liability, pretty much. That her stutter…something that is a fucking trauma response is a problem.”

Dad refills my mother’s champagne glass and hands it to her. And then freshens up his drink.

It’s their way of saying, we’re here, let’s talk it through.

But I don’t know how that’s going to help.

How do you show someone who trusted you, when they don’t do that easily, that you can be relied upon again?

I let out a long breath, shaking my head slowly. “I hurt her. Professionally. Personally.”

Dad leans back and gives me a long, measured look. “I told you in your office, and I’m telling you again, get rid of Erin. She’s not good for the company or you. This agenda she had with getting Anouk out of there was fueled, I can guarantee, by professional jealousy.”