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“I don’t remember your parents at all.”
“You only met them once when you were about eighteen months old,” she tells me with a shake of her head. “I had a huge fight with my parents about how I was raising you and who I was married to, so I vowed to do it without their help. Even after your father died, I never reached out again.” She sips her coffee, arching a brow. “So I guess you’ve got one over me. You’re a bigger person than I was.”
“I didn’t know any of that.”
“I was embarrassed and angry. I thought I could do everything by myself, but evidently that didn’t work out.” My mother snorts. “Look what happened with you. Maybe if we’d had a support system, things would have turned out differently.”
My chest clenches. “Ma, you had nothing to do with me going to prison.”
“Didn’t I? What if I’d been around more? If I had asked for help, I could have gotten you into counseling when your father died. I could have been at home instead of working myself to the bone. I could have saved you from ever meeting those boys.”
The pain in my mother’s face cracks my heart right open. I never knew she blamed herself for all that. Frowning, I swallow past a lump in my throat and say, “Is that why you didn’t push it when I told you not to come visit me?”
“I’ve been blaming myself for what happened to you for decades, Fallon. I’m the one who gave you your father’s knife.”
“That fucking knife.” I snort and stare at the ceiling, then clamp my mouth shut, waiting for my mother to scold me for swearing.
But she just huffs. “That fucking knife is right.”
A surprised laugh falls from my lips, and pretty soon the two of us are laughing in earnest. When I quiet down, I shake my head. “Ma, you can’t blame yourself for what I did. I just realized yesterday that maybe I shouldn’t blame myself as much as I have been either. It happened, I did my time, and it’s in the past.”
Her eyes glimmer. “Hmm. So, no more deflection. Who is she?”
Another laugh escapes my lips, and it’s like a balm on my soul. I haven’t laughed with my mother in years—maybe not since I was a kid. But we’re here, sharing a coffee, and there’s no rancor.
What if I had done this two decades ago? I’ve wasted so many years stuck in my own head, in my own pain. I could have had a good life with my family all around me, but I chose to walk alone.
Just like my mother did.
Maybe it’s time for me to stand up and break that cycle. To actually forgive myself for my past and rise above it. I can’t bear the thought of losing Jen because I’m too bullheaded to get over my issues.
I clear my throat. “Her name is Jennifer. Jen. She’s a genius, Ma. You’d love her. Her brain is like this intricate machine that looks at the world in ways I’ve never even considered.” I grin. “She likes your masala chai recipe.”
“Uh-uh, Fallon.” My mom slurps her coffee. “She likes your recipe.”
My chest puffs, lips tugging. “Yeah. I guess she does.”
“So, why isn’t she here with you?”
My thumb runs over the grain of the wood table. “Well, that’s the thing. I think I might have messed up, but I’m not really sure how to fix it.”
My mother lifts a finger, gets up to grab the coffee carafe to top us up, then sits back down. She nods. “Tell me everything.”
CHAPTER 32
Jen
A familiar key slides into the guesthouse door, and I place my bag inside, shoulders dropping with a sigh. When I told the girls I was taking a week to myself, they were very encouraging.
When I told them I’d be staying at the Heart’s Cove Manor Retreat, I got a lot of funny looks—but I like this place! I have good memories, the guesthouse is comfortable, and it’s far enough that it feels like a vacation without being too far to be inconvenient.
Plus, I can still grab breakfast from Four Cups in the morning.
I’m a creature of habit. I’m not Iliana; I don’t need to go jet-setting all over the world to feel like I’m getting a holiday. And maybe I feel like I need some closure…or an action plan in case Fallon comes back.
I’ve been able to avoid my parents for the past few days, and my hope is that they’ll give up and leave Heart’s Cove and let me live in peace. Hopefully by the time Fallon comes back, they’ll be out of my hair.
The cot is gone. I sit on the edge of the bed and lie back to stare at the ceiling, blowing out a breath.
