Page 143 of Peaks and Promises

“That’s good to hear. I was hoping Tilikum would work out for them. Summer’s planning to stay in the house?”

“As far as I know.”

She nodded slowly. “But you’re not.”

It wasn’t a question. Reluctant to meet her eyes, I kept my gaze on the floor.

“I told her I’d get her away from her ex. And I’ll make sure she’s settled.”

“What are you running from, Reese?”

“I’m not running.”

“Yes, you are. Aren’t you tired of it?”

I was tired of it. And I wasn’t even sure what I was running from anymore.

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren’t you?” she asked. “Things might be fine now, but it’s only a matter of time before that changes.”

“What makes you say that?”

“That’s how you’ve always been. Ever since your father left.”

I let out a frustrated breath. “I barely even remember that.”

“Maybe not, but it left a mark. On you, especially. You always kept yourself a little bit apart, even from your family.”

“Mom—”

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for leaving.”

“I know you’re not. None of you have. And I don’t get it. It would have been easier if Zachary had punched me in the face, and Garrett had given me a ticket out of spite, and Josiah had refused to acknowledge my existence. And Dad…” Trailing off, I rubbed my forehead.

“If Dad hadn’t welcomed you home.”

“Yes,” I said, my tone emphatic. “I don’t deserve that.”

Her voice was soft. “Why not?”

“Because of what I did to him. I stole from him. And then I said all the worst things I could think of. I hit him where it hurt, and I did it on purpose.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but I interrupted, the words pouring out in a rush.

“What I did to Dad was just the beginning. No one seems to care that I was a criminal. You have no idea what I was capable of. None of you do. And the bottom line is, I don’t belong here.”

She held my eyes, but I couldn’t read her expression. After a long moment, she stood.

“You do belong here. And I think deep down, you know that. But you’re afraid to believe your family could forgive you. And if we can’t, if it’s all on the surface, one day it’s going to crack. You’re so convinced that you’re bad—that you’re worse than everyone else—you assume the first time you make a mistake, it’ll all come crashing down. And that when it does, it’ll only be what you deserve. So instead of taking the risk and living the life you’re meant to live, your instinct is to cut ties. To run. To push people away before they have the chance to hurt you.”

“I push people away because I don’t want them to see who I really am.” The admission felt like a knife wound. It was too true. My deepest fear spoken aloud.

“Oh, Reese. You keep clinging to the shame of your past. But that’s not who you are. Not in here.” She put a hand on her chest. “Anyone can see that. You’re a good man.”

“Am I? How would you know?”

“Because I see who you are. And so does she. You’re a man who dropped everything to help a woman in trouble. Who treats her son like his own.” She laughed suddenly, shaking her head. “You’re so much like your dad.”

What was she talking about?