Page 119 of Not Until I Found You

She lets out an uneven breath, shaking her head as her gaze drifts past me.

“All I could think about was how everything had happened with your dad. And then again with Ashton.” Her lips press together for a second. “Each time, it felt like I was losing someone I loved.”

I’ve been so focused on my own hurt that I never stopped to consider what those goodbyes cost her. She lets go of me and places her hands beside her on the couch. Her fingers curl into the fabric of the cushion, gripping it lightly before she lets go. Understanding washes over me, that her reaction was out of fear instead of anger.

“Having you close by brought me a sense of comfort. I didn’t realize I was holding onto that so tightly.” She lets out a slow breath. “And when you said you wanted to move here, it felt like that was slipping away too.”

Emotion rises unexpectedly in my throat, because the truth is, she isn’t the only one who’s afraid. The idea of leaving my mom behind scares me too.

“I’m not leaving you,” I say gently. “I’m not choosing one life over another. I’m trying to build something that includes all of it.”

Her eyes search mine. “You really believe you can make it work?”

“I do,” I say without any hesitation. “I’m not giving up my degree or my future. I’m choosing where I want to build it. And who I want to build it with. That’s all.”

She studies me for another moment before nodding in understanding.

“Okay,” she says.

Finally, for the first time all summer, I feel like we’re on the same page. Neither of us speaks for a moment, until Mom lets out a small yawn and leans back into the couch, her shoulders lowering as some of the tension leaves her.

“So…” she says, glancing over at me, “where does that leave us?”

I tuck a leg beneath me, turning toward her. “I think that depends. How long are you planning on staying?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “I didn’t think that far ahead. I packed a bag, got in the car, and drove until I was in Covewood. My only plan was to find you.”

My gaze drifts to the white bandage wrapped around her hand. I’d been so caught up in everything she’d come here to say that I hadn’t really let myself think about why she’d had the time to come at all. I reach across the couch and gently take her hand in mine, careful not to bump the bandage.

“Mom…”

She looks down at our hands before meeting my eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

She gives a one-shoulder shrug as she tries to make light of it. “It’ll heal.”

I trace my thumb lightly over the edge of the bandage. “You’ve worked yourself to exhaustion my entire life with overtime, double shifts, and missing sleep. You keep giving every piece of yourself away just to keep everyone else afloat.”

“I wanted you and Ashton to have everything you needed.”

“We know that, and we’re both thankful for it. But I’ve been thinking that maybe it can be my turn to take care of you, at least after I get settled here.”

Her chin lifts as tears fill her eyes before she blinks them away and reassembles herself into the mother who always has it together. But I caught it anyway, a glimpse of how much she needed to hear what I said.

“Oh, honey.” Her voice comes out softer than usual, stripped of its normal certainty, and she reaches out to push a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t owe me that.”

“But I’d like to do that for you. I don’t want that factory job to be the thing that finally breaks you. Besides…”

She raises an eyebrow as she waits for me to continue.

“With me being in Covewood soon, moving here with me might be something you could start thinking about. It’d be nice to have all of my family nearby.”

“I don’t know,” she says quietly after a moment. “I guess we could talk about it when the time comes.”

I don’t push her for more than that. Some doors don’t need to be forced open, they just need the option of being unlocked.

A while later, after Mom takes her bag into the spare room and closes the door behind her, the cabin falls quiet again. I sit on the edge of the couch for a moment, my hands resting loosely in my lap, staring at nothing in particular as everything from tonight weighs on my heart.