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“We never had a choice.” I slammed my fist on the table, drawing the attention of the people at a few nearby tables. “She took it. She decided everything for our family.”
“I’m still going.”
Stubborn ass.
“When? Where?”
“I’m going alone.” There was a rough edge to his voice. My little brother was a man now. He didn’t need me to fight his battles for him anymore. But this was one he shouldn’t take on by himself.
“She doesn’t deserve your time. She isn’t worth it.”
“I get to decide that.”
Disappointment wound its way through me, even though he was right. “That’s why you’re here. Did she ask you to come?”
“No. No way.” He shook his head vehemently. “I found her on social media. Once I was here, I messaged her.” Holt snorted. “How absurd is it not to have your own mother’s phone number?” Bitterness seeped into his words, and I understood them completely.
“I can’t believe she agreed to see you.”
“She replied back within a few minutes.”
“Just . . . be careful. You know what they say about playing with fire,” I warned. Except she wasn’t just fire, she was an inferno.
“Should I tell Dad?” He’d asked me the same question the night he’d gotten caught breaking into his high school with his buddies for a senior prank. Then I’d said yes.
“I don’t know.” I polished off my second drink. “I’m going to need more alcohol.”
When I brought backanother round, Holt had peeled the label off the second beer bottle in one sheet.
“Keep it up and you’ll be a professional,” I said, dropping his new beer in front of him. “If you’re nervous about seeing her, why go?” I sank back into the seat across from him.
He took a pull off his bottle. “I’m not nervous.”
“The hell you aren’t.”
“I told you. I need to do this.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Guess you need to figure out if you’re going to tell him or not.” I showed Holt the screen with our dad’s name on it.
After a short conversation, Dad was on his way to meet us. As soon as I ended the call, my brother shot me a hard gaze.
“I’m not going to tell him. Not until I see what happens.”
I sank may teeth into my bottom lip. “It’s probably for the best. I told him I ran into her the other day, and he bolted.”
Holt’s eyes sharpened. “You saw her and you didn’t say anything before now?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I saw her. She tried to talk to me. I ignored her and walked away,” I said, succinctly recounting the events.
“Don’t you want to know why?” he implored.
“I don’t care,” I said emphatically. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a mother.”
I downed most of my whiskey in one swallow. I should take it easy, but when it came to the woman who had birthed me, my self-control went out the window. I’d already wasted too many years wondering why she’d left us. We’d all needed her and she hadn’t been there. Growing up without a mother was hard. I’d had her love for seven years and then it was just gone. I still hadn’t fully come to grips with that. There was a hollowness in the spot where she should have been.
She didn’t get to choose when she wanted to come back. As if what she’d done to her own children wasn’t bad enough, how she’d treated our father was the worst. He’d tried to hide his pain from us as best he could, but he’d loved her. And she’d abandoned us all.
“What if you could have one?” Holt asked quietly.
