Page 124 of Taking Sides

He lets out another grunt. Oops. I ruined the vibe by mentioning Mom. It’s his least favorite topic, but now it’s the only thing distracting me from the pregnancy tests two feet away.

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“Why don’t you hate her at all?” he fires back.

My mouth pulls into an annoyed frown.

“No. I’m serious. I don’t understand why you don’t resent her. How could you move into her house? She left us and came here. She chose this over us. Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“A little,” I admit. It would have been nice to have had a mother growing up. There were so many moments where I felt the loss: my first crush, getting my first period, needing my first bra, trying to figure out makeup, shopping for dresses to go to school dances, graduation . . . and the list goes on. “But it couldn’t have been easy for her.”

“Being a parent?”

“Being married to Dad.”

He shakes his head. “Which is another reason it pisses me off. She knew what he was like, and she still thought he was the better option. Maybe he was. Either way, it’s bullshit that she just left. What kind of mother does that?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. And maybe that’s really the worst part for me. It isn’t that she left but that I’ll never truly understand why. I wasn’t brave enough to ask her when I was a kid and now, she’s not here. This house is the closest to an answer that I’ll ever get.

“This place has felt like a second chance for me.” I glance around at it. Every project has made it feel more like mine. “Maybe that’s what it was for her too. A chance to live her life on her own terms.”

“A life that didn’t include us.”

“You can’t put it all on her. You didn’t reach out either.”

He grunts. I don’t know whose fault it was, but what does it matter who is to blame when it’s too late to change it.

“Do you think it’s possible to be a good parent when your examples are . . .” I struggle to say “bad” and instead go with, “Less than ideal?”

“I don’t know.”

Me either and that’s terrifying. What the hell do I know about being a mom? I drop a hand to my lower stomach protectively.

“Conrad fucking Shepard,” Victor mutters.

“He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah.” Victor’s chest rises and falls with a silent laugh. “I’ll bet he is.”

“He is, and he’s going to be a part of my life no matter what happens.” I wave a hand toward the tests without looking at them. “So you need to figure your shit out.”

Victor is silent.

“What happened between you two?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate each other. Why?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Victor turns his head to look at me. His brown eyes are a shade lighter than mine. “Everyone hates me.”

“Yeah, but Conrad wouldn’t unless there was a reason.”

Victor’s jaw works back and forth. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay, then why do you hate him?”

He’s quiet too long.