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As I drive, everything I thought was real starts to crumble and I feel like nothing but an idiot who believed in a hoax.
Chapter 21
Blake
Rachel is on my mind and I fucking hate it. Not because I hate her but because she actually means something to me. And she’s upset with me because she wants something from me that I just can’t give her.
It pisses me off that I can’t give her what she needs. I’ve been doing my own thing for so long, not getting into relationships, because I know I’m not the man women want. They want the fairy tale, the white picket fence and the two-point-five children and the golden retriever, and I’m just not that guy.
It’s never bothered me before.
It bothers me now.
Why? Because I care about Rachel more than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and she’s not happy with me.
I turn to my full-length window and look out over the New York skyline. I barely see the beauty in the concrete buildings and streets that create a patchwork of efficiency. My mind spins, my feelings are out of whack, and I feel like a stupid teenager who doesn’t know how to distinguish between his head and his heart.
I’m not only pissed about my inability to give Rachel the life she wants. I’m also pissed off that I’m pissed off about it.
I know, it sounds fucking pathetic. But there it is—I hate how much I’ve come to care in such a short time.
I hate that I care at all.
The phone rings, and I pick it up and slam it down on the receiver again, not willing to take it. I’m at the office and I should focus on work—after our retreat and how well it went down, all my investors want to put in more cash than they committed at first. It’s almost as if they’re trying to reward me for having Rachel in my life.
I don’t know how that works; it sounds ridiculous to me that my relationship status would affect how they view me. But there it is—now that they think Rachel and I are a definite item, they want to invest more than ever. People really do buy into the happily-ever-after bullshit in the biggest way.
The thing is, after our weekend together, that’s how I felt for a moment, too. Like I can conquer the world with a woman like Rachel by my side. Like everything I’ve already done suddenly has a new dimension to it. A world always painted in shades of gray suddenly had color to it.
But now…
My cellphone rings, yanking me from the spiral of my thoughts. I’m ready to hang up when Austin Howe’s name flashes on the caller ID.
“What?” I bark.
“Easy, I couldn’t find you on the office phone.”
Because I don’t want to take calls.
“I found her,” he adds.
Blood drains from my face. “What?”
“Lynne Ford. I found her. She lives in Texas, in a small town in the middle of nowhere.”
“Do you have an address?”
“I’ll send you the details along with my invoice.”
“You do that,” I say and end the call.
My fingers tremble and my ears ring while I wait for the address to come through. When it does. I stare at it for a long time. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to react. Do I pick up the phone and call? What the hell would I say?
My mom is a part of my past. I don’t know if I can forgive her for not leaving with me that day. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for leaving her behind.
Finally, I open my laptop and book a flight out to Houston, and book a rental car. I can’t let this go if I don’t do something about it. I can’t let my past weigh me down. It’s been so long, and I’m sick and tired of looking back. The only way to deal with my past is by facing it and looking forward.
My father is already dead. Finding my mom now won’t be dangerous.
