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My brows knead together. The regret that has engulfed me over what I did vanquishes. My soul craves dragging him from the depths of hell and murdering him all over again.
And again. And again.
“He hardly asked for permission. And I hated it. Hated him. Until I got pregnant with you.” Tears well in her eyes as she relives her past. Our past. “Terminating the pregnancy, the one good thing in my life, wasn’t an option. I came clean to my parents about everything. They were furious, threw me out with some cash and a suitcase to another black sheep of the family, my mother’s sister.”
Theo and I don’t utter a word throughout her story. He’s there, though. Listening as intently as I do, as angry as I am.
“This is where she lived.” My mom gestures to the four walls of her small trailer home. “Aunt Maurine and I shared the only bed in the house. Not exactly the ideal place to raise a child. That’s why I…” Her speech breaks, vacillating between sobs and words. “Why I gave you away to the orphanage. You deserved better. That’s also why I didn’t come to get you once you turned eighteen. I haven’t stepped foot near that place because any connection to me would’ve dragged you back to…this.” Another gesture of her arm shows me what she makes of this place.
I don’t mind it. I don’t mind it one freaking bit.
Frankly, I don’t give two shits about the house, about the four walls, or about sleeping on the couch.
I want to tell her what I deserved was a mother. I want to tell her I deserved to have her read bedtime stories to me. How I would’ve given up a lung to watch her smile, do each other’s nails, watch old shows together, and spend Christmas as a family.
All the things I saw in the movies and read about in books and never had for myself.
Would it help, though? Would it change our past? No.
She did what she thought was best, broke the cycle by giving me a fresh start away from her heartbreaking reality. I can’t blame her or judge her for any of it.
I do, however, have more questions. “What changed? Why did you go back to Zeke?”
“I made a mistake. Your grandmother passed away last month. Heart attack.” Her mouth pinches. “Dad died a day later. They were my parents, as harsh as they were. I put off the tutoring classes I give the children in the area and drove back to my hometown to give them a proper burial with the insurance money.”
“Is that why you drank?” I ask, connecting the dots.
“Yes. I’m so sorry, Prue.”
Theo’s hand rubs my waist, up and down. My rock. He says without words that if I could’ve forgiven him, I can forgive her for her slip-up.
And I do. A part of me wishes to resent her for it. The other part, the compassionate side of me, refuses to waste another minute on resentment.
The chain of events that had led me to where I am today wouldn’t have been possible had my mom not told Zeke about me.
I wouldn’t have reconnected with her. And I’m not sad a monster had to die in the process.
That’s why I’m the first to stand up. The first to open my arms for an embrace.
We hug. We cry together, listen to each other’s stories—Theo’s too, and in those moments, we become a family.
An actual family.
Four hours later, Theo and I say our goodbyes and head to his car together.
“It’s surreal.” I shake my head as he peels out of Mom’s driveway. “Freaking surreal.”
Theo places his firm hand on my thigh, casting a glance at me. “What is?”
“This. My life.” A humorless laugh escapes me. “I feel like I’m in a movie or something.”
“Rom-com or horror?”
My laughter at his words becomes a wholehearted one. Theo is hardly the man to take a crack at a joke, so it makes it even funnier when he does.
“A mix of both.” I slide my fingers high up on his jeans. “With a touch of porn.”
“Prue.” Theo arches an eyebrow, warning me.
