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Makes sense.
“And you know, I haven’t seen him play so horribly since his senior year in college.”
Senior year in college. When he came to prom with me. When he learned about everything.
Guilt starts chipping away at my resolve. It makes me question if me running away, not wanting to be the one calling the shots in Fletcher’s life, actually only made Ashton feel, well… all alone. It bubbles inside me like a putrid, squelching swamp, but I can’t turn back because I’m stuck in it.
Maybe we should have talked about it for longer. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so explosive and extreme about it. But really? Whatcanwe do? Chloe has a hold on both of us, and in order to break free, we need to hurt someone we both care about.
Mom and I finish shelling, and the bowl has about three tablespoons in it. Mom and I glance at each other, wondering what Sam will say when she realizes that she didn’t buy nearly enough. Mom pushes the bowl toward Sam and conceals her amusement.
Sam peeks in the bowl. “Is that it?” Her gaze is full of shock. “I bought two pounds of peas!”
Mom shakes her head, laughing. “That’s okay, city girl.”
My mom using Colt’s nickname for Sam nearly gets a smile out of me.
“We can mix them with frozen just this once,” she adds. “But don’t tell anyone.”
Sam has her hands on her hips. “I feel like I’ve been cheated.”
She puts a bunch of plastic containers on the counter. “Right, let’s put these things away, because I think I have about ten more minutes in me before I collapse.” She does look exhausted.
Mom stands and walks around to her side of the counter and takes the Tupperware out of her hand. “Go on upstairs, Sammy. Be with your family. Jolie and I will finish and lock up.”
“You sure?” She sounds relieved.
I nod. Mom does, too, and Sam pads up the stairs in her fuzzy socks. Mom and I put the food away in silence and find nooks and crannies in the fridge to shove the sides into. I’m working slowly, not wanting to go home at all. I really can’t imagine how empty I’ll feel walking into my house with Ashton’s stick still sitting near the front door and my bed surely smelling like Cool Water, because I made him spray some on my pillow before leaving for the arena this morning.
We finish, and my Mom considers me.
“It’s late. Why don’t you slumber at mine tonight if you don’t have work tomorrow? Saves you driving back here in the morning to muck out Ted.”
I don’t have any pajamas and I’d need to change out of my scrubs before doing Ted anyway, but the look in my mother’s eye tells me she knows that already and she’s making excuses for me, so I don’t have to.
I’m so grateful for her. The relief at not having to be alone tonight is overwhelming.
Half an hour later, I curl up on my side of my mom’s queen bed wearing the biggest PJs she could find, but my ankles and calves stick out the bottom. She puts onSex and the Citywhich was her go-to show in the years after my dad died. I see why. Those women are real and flawed but badass and always get back up when they’re knocked down.
About midnight, my mom leaves the room, and when she returns she has a hot water bottle for me. “It’s bedtime. I got this for you.”
The fuzzy warmth adds solace to this space. It’s the best thing I’d ever be able to ask for right now.
She turns off the light, and I stare into the darkness, eyes adjusting slowly. I hug my hot water bottle. When my eyes can see clearly again, they focus on a little picture next to the bed on the side table. It’s of my mom and dad with one of our old horses. They’re young and happy in that picture.
Guess nothing lasts forever.
And some things don’t last nearly long enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Openingmy eyes the following morning, I’m still breathing shallowly in my childhood bed surrounded by everything that reminds me of good times. Years when everything was simple and all I would have had to do for a lifetime of happiness was say yes to Jolie at prom. Last night, regret poured into me, and now my body is heavy and as thick as concrete. I have no idea how I’m going to make it through Thanksgiving today. How did I get myself into this position?
Jolie is right on so many levels. My mom fucked upand asked her son to shoulder a burden far too big. I have no idea how I’m going to look her in the eye and not experience some kind of tension. But I really blame myself more. If I didn’t pick Chloe, if I wasn’t fooled by the excitement of Hollywood and her promises of paradise, none of this would have happened.
In my life, whenever I’d do something wrong or a bad thing happened, I’d always have a future moment when I’d think that mistake or challenge shaped me for the better. That will never happen in this circumstance.
By ten, when I know I should rise because the clatter of Thanksgiving preparation dances up the stairs and under my doorframe, I’m still facedown on my bed in my boxers, thirsty but too depressed to even get myself a goddamn drink of water.
