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Very still.
“You could be so much more. You could live your dream. You could—”
Her mother carefully turned and put the fork and knife on the table. “You talk a lot of dreams, my darling.” Her voice was quiet, but steady.Toosteady. “It’s just too bad that the only dreams you recognize are your own.”
That struck hard and—
Her mom walked out of the room.
True.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Mom, wait,” she said, running after her. “I-I—”
“Let’s pick this up next week,” her mother said. “I’m tired.”
She was an ass.
Even a bigger one than her brother.
Had she truly not learnedanythingfrom all that she had been through with Jeremy, all they had both learned? Had she really not reflected on how shitty it felt for her brother to discount her choices?
And she’d just done the same damned thing.
To her mother.
Fuck.Fuck.
She caught her arm. “Mom. Wait. I’m sorry.”
A smile, gentle, typical of her mom. “It’s fine, honey.” A pat to her shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”
“No,” Teresa whispered. “Don’t do that. I hurt you. I’m sorry.” She caught her mom’s hand. “I didn’t mean to discount your choices.”
“I know,” her mother said. “It’s just that our choices are very far apart.”
That.
It was that exactly.
And she was an asshole to think that her decisions, her dreams were better, especially when she was nursing her own hurt about her choices not being respected by her family.
She’d done the same damned thing to her mom.
“I may not flare hot like you, like your dad, your brothers,” her mom said on a slow, deep breath, the hurt still in her eyes. “But there is strength in being soft. There is strength in giving, incaringfor the ones you love.”
Teresa dropped her arm. “I know.”
God, she knew.
That was Jeremy.
That was her mother.
“Honey, I know you think that I lost myself,” her mom whispered. “But having a family, having people to love wasmybiggest dream.”
