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It always does. Every fucking time.
“Mom?” I’m sitting in front of her. She’s holding my hands.
“Is that you? She smiles at me. “My son.”
I shake my head. “No, no. I’m not Sebastian.”
“Sebastian? No, of course not.” She chuckles drily. “I never thought you were.”
She didn’t? “You’re always waiting for him.”
“Not for him. For you, Jarett. Waiting for you to let me in. Waiting for you to call me Mom. To realize how much you mean to me.”
I grip her hands tightly. “You’ve never said anything like that to me.”
“Search your memory. Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re my sweet boy. You’re always in my heart, Jarett. Bruce and me, we loved you from the start. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget what I said. Remember.”
Remember. She’s fading, turning to gray. Don’t forget.
“Mom?” I come awake with a gasp, lying on my back in Gigi’s bed, her arm draped over my stomach. “Shit.”
She blinks sleepy eyes at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
It had felt so real. I swear I can still feel Mom’s hands in mine, I can still hear her voice.
Remember.
It’s a bittersweet feeling, and she’s right, I do remember. She asked me to call her Mom. She told me she believed in me. That I was her son, now, just like Sebastian.
I’d pushed all that to the back of my mind when she fell sick. Remembering the good things I’d lost so quickly fucking hurt. But I remember now.
“Jarett?” Gigi props her cheek on her hand to look down at me. “Something’s on your mind. Want to talk about it?”
“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” I pull her close, kiss her sweet lips. “It’s still early.”
She falls asleep on my chest, and I brush my fingers through her long hair, but can’t stop the dream from replaying o
ver and over in my mind until morning.
Together with the warmth left behind by the dream, there’s a cold, bad feeling, too. I can’t shake it off as I get up and shower, then sit down to breakfast with Gigi and Merc, even though he makes us pancakes.
He asks if I’m okay, and he and Gigi exchange long looks over my head.
I can’t tell them anything. I don’t know what’s wrong. If anything’s wrong.
Maybe I’m just not used to good dreams, good memories.
I kiss Gigi goodbye and head to the garage to start my day. It’s quickly becoming a routine, a good one. Kaden comes in with coffee and checks the appointments of the day, then Matt, red-eyed and yawning from staying up half the night because of the baby, but beaming with happiness.
And then I get the phone call. The one I got sometimes in my nightmares. I listen, and I put the phone down, not even sure I disconnected.
Getting up, I leave the office, and the garage, without telling anyone.
