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“How?” she asked simply after five more minutes of just staring at what I found endlessly fascinating.
I’d been staring at these paintings every night before I slept since I’d moved into this place, and I still found it hard to tear my eyes off them.
The only thing that was marginally worth it?
Her.
Watching her come.
Getting to see her unravel in my arms.
I never expected to see that again, so I’d never been able to compare the two, but fuck a duck. Seeing that was a treat worth tens of millions, bar none.
“Did you hear what I asked you earlier?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I smiled a little, amazed I could find anything about this conversation amusing. “Didn’t think so.” I cleared my throat. “Dad was scared I was gay—”
That had her snorting. “You?Gay?”
“Yeah.” I grinned, appreciating that she knew I was anything but.
Just because I liked the fucking arts, had a seat at the goddamn opera, and enjoyed the ballet, did not mean I was gay.
Of course, in my father’s eyes, there was no worse crime.
Rubbing my chin, I muttered, “He shoved me in the Points two years ahead of time because he was scared I was a pussy.”
“You never told me you were twelve when you first enlisted!” Her gasp of outrage was purely motherly, and when I saw hell in her eyes, I knew why before she even ground out, “If your mother dares to fucking judge me over anything Seamus does, I’m going to get in her face, because she should have stopped that in its tracks.”
Usually, I’d have defended Ma until the end of time, but in this, she was right…
Huh.
Was that why she was always different with me? Guilt? Did she know she should have done better?Bea better mom?
There was no point in thinking shit like that, so I sighed. “She thought what she was doing was right at the time.”
“It wasn’t. I don’t give a fuck if Seamus wants to fuck guys, don’t give a shit if he gets turned on by cucumbers! So long as it isn’t illegal and doesn’t hurt someone else, I’m okay with him being who he is.”
There was another warning in that.
And I shrugged. “It’s a different time.”
I genuinely didn’t care if he was gay or not either, which, I’d admit, surprised me. I didn’t think the kid was, not with the way he eyed some of the cheerleaders in the games we’d been watching, so the point was kind of moot. But I agreed.
“Don’t give a shit if it is or isn’t,” she growled, and seeing her all fired up on our kid’s behalf, on the young me’s behalf, did something to me.
Fuck if it didn’t.
I scratched my jaw, a little uneasy with what I was thinking. Feeling. I hadn’t thought talking about this would be so jarring. Not just because of what I’d gone through so young, but because it led to this moment in time.
The way I’d been raised had directly affected the way my son had been raised. It was a parallel I didn’t feel like exploring right now.
“I agree,” I told her softly. “I won’t give you shit over it.”
“Good. I should fucking hope not.”
