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“I could ask the same about you.” She sighed. “Your dad couldn’t sleep.” Which meant she took care of him in any way possible.
Sex.
I wasn’t oblivious to their ways. Although they were my parents, they were open enough to tell me how they took care of each other. Especially after I accidentally found the shackles beneath their bed.
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.
“No.” She opened the door fully but still remained in the hall. “Want to talk about it?”
I nodded. She had been the only woman I talked to lately. The only woman I actually trusted enough to tell my problems to. Or that was what I tried telling myself anyway. Therewassomeone else. But I wasn’t good enough for her and she had a father. A large fucking father.
My mother left the room and closed the door softly behind her.
Brogan and Coby Porter adopted me when I was ten. They took me from a horrible situation that no child should ever go through and welcomed me into their home with open arms. They gave me love, support, and never-ending encouragement no matter how difficult I had been. But it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t sure why. I never felt this way when I was a kid but now that I was getting older, there was something missing from my life. That nagging little voice inside of me told me what it was, but I always chose to ignore it. There was no point.Shedeserved better and whenever she got too close, I pushed her away. It was the only way I could protect myself from getting hurt.
I quickly threw on pajama pants and a hoodie and made my way out into the kitchen. No matter what time of night it was, if Dad or I had a nightmare, Mom was always there to talk us through it.
She handed me a mug of hot chocolate with three marshmallows swimming in the steaming liquid. I smiled softly. It was always the same ever since I was a little boy.
“Here.”
I sat at the table when Brogan placed a mug in front of me. “What is it?”
She smiled softy. “Hot chocolate with three marshmallows. My brother used to make this for me when I was your age.”
I looked up at her. “Did you have nightmares?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. I did.” Brogan sat beside me and cupped my hand that was resting on my lap. “I’m here, Zach. For however long you need, I’m always here. Both of us are.”
Ever since then, I had looked forward to the hot chocolate. It had been a special bonding time for Mom and me. A part of me wondered if Dad knew that, so he would let her take care of me before asking me about the nightmares later on.
“Was it the same nightmare as last time?” Mom asked, sitting across the table from me with her own mug. Even though she was now older, the only wrinkles that sat on her face, were at the corners of her eyes. She always said they were her love lines because the love she had for my father and me, made her smile.
“Kind of. It’s been awhile but this one was intense.” I stared down at the marshmallows in the hot chocolate. “I almost forgot what they could be like.”
“Your father goes through the same thing.” Her gaze hardened. “If I could murder the woman who destroyed you, I would.” She shrugged. “But I have to behave. I am a mother now after all.” It had been something she said often. She wasn’t lying when she said she would kill her. Mom was part of a female motorcycle club that could give most men a run for their money. She had a past. A history. They never talked about the woman who hurt my dad, but everything told me that she was no longer breathing.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her cheeks reddening.
“Just thinking how amazing you are.”
She laughed. “You are so much like your father, it’s unreal.”
I smiled, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. Even though we weren’t blood related, I had taken on a lot of my adoptive father’s traits. He protected my mother. His wife. His best friend. And I only hoped I could be half the man he was.
“Have you considered seeing Dr. Santos like we talked about?” Mom asked, pulling the elastic free from her dark curly hair and putting it back into a messy bun on top of her head.
“No.” I hated talking. It opened up too many old wounds that I just didn’t want to think about.
“I know it’s hard, but you really should.” She raised her hand. “Before you argue with me, just give it some thought. Please.”
“So this is what you do when I don’t find you in bed beside me.”
Both of us laughed as my dad joined us at the table.
“You good, Son?” he asked me, cupping my shoulder.
“Nightmare,” was all I said.
