“She’s something else for sure. I’ve never met a chick that runs so hot and cold. We went to school together when I was younger.”
He lifted both his eyebrows and shifted his legs under the covers.
“You think it has something to do with when you were a pain-in-the-ass teenager? You used to run your mouth and not think about it all the time and you had a tendency to act like a little shit when the mood struck. You and Rule both. Maybe the man is paying for the sins of his younger self.”
I pondered that and inclined my chin at him.
“You look a little better.”
“Better is relative. The pneumonia is on the mend, and they tell me I might make it out of here by the end of the week. I’m going to have to look at hiring someone for home care, though, because the worst is yet to come, and I’m not staying in this hospital surrounded by machines, just waiting for the end to sweep in and take me.”
I frowned and folded my hands together and rested my forearms on my knees.
“How can you sound so matter-of-fact about the fact you’re dying? It rips my f**king guts out and you talk about it like we’re discussing what to have for dinner.”
“I’ve had longer to get used to the idea than you have, son. I’m sorry that I never could find the right words to talk to you about it before now. The first time around you were just a little kid and I thought I was invincible. This time I know none of that holds any water.”
That didn’t make feel any better, but I guess nothing ever would.
“When are you going to tell me how all this happened? How did no one ever think I needed to know the truth about you and Mom?”
He sighed, which started a round of coughing that had his whole body contorting. I wanted to feel bad for asking but I needed to know.
“That’s a long story for another place and time. Really I think you should ask your mother about it.”
I threw my big frame back in the chair and glared at him.
“I want the truth and I doubt she even knows what that looks like.”
He clicked his tongue at me and shifted in the bed again. He just looked so frail and so unlike the man that I had always wanted to emulate. It scared me.
“We are equally accountable for not telling you sooner. She made some bad choices, decided her future was going to look one way no matter what stood in her path—me, you and anything else. I was grateful for the time I had with you, and the rest of the boys. Do I wish you had known that you were my kid sooner? Yes, but I also understand why your mother wanted to keep it a secret for as long as she did. I made some bad choices along the way as well, Nash.”
“Why did you let her do this to us? To me? My childhood was a nightmare until you got involved.”
He gave me a look I recognized all too well. I saw it on Rule. I saw it on Jet. I saw it on Rome every time they looked at the women that had captured their hearts forever, so I answered for him.
“You loved her.”
He closed his eyes and slumped down on the pillows piled up behind him.
“Love isn’t something you can negotiate, Nash. When it happens, it becomes everything.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. I’ve been on the losing end of love my entire life.”
“You can’t base love on the experience you had growing up. Loving someone you want to make your own has a different feeling, a different power than the love you have for family. It’s different and the chains that bind it can be unbreakable.” His voice cracked and his eyes slid closed.
He was fading fast, so I got to my feet and walked over so I could clap a hand on his shoulder. It took all my will not to flinch when I felt how brittle he was under the black sweater he had on.
“I guess. I just don’t know how anyone can love a guy whose own mom tossed him over. That doesn’t bode well in my book. If Mom couldn’t love me, how is anyone else going to for the long haul?”
He might have had an argument that would’ve made me feel better but he drifted off to sleep before he could give it to me.
I never considered forever with anyone. I didn’t think it was for me, but when I thought about the way Saint’s eyes shifted from light gray to pewter, and remembered the way she felt pressed up against me in both my desperation and her own, I was starting to wonder if I needed to reconsider my view on things.
CHAPTER 6
Saint
The weather had gone from yucky to scary as I navigated the roads into the mountains and toward the upscale suburb of Brookside, where both my parents still lived. Mom kept the big house in the gated community. Dad had moved into a trendy condo closer to the main part of town with his girlfriend. There were miles separating them, but if you asked my mother, the distance between Denver and the moon wasn’t enough space to get away from my father and his betrayal. I really did feel bad for her, but at some point she needed to start to heal or she was going to lose more than just her marriage and her sanity. Faith was hanging on by a thread, and me … I loved my mom, but I was over it. Men disappointed, it was just the way it was.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the choices my dad had made. I didn’t understand how he could so easily walk away from my mom and leave his family in the lurch, but blame only went so far. I could hate him forever for falling in love with someone else, throw him out of my life indefinitely because of the decisions he had made that had led to my mom acting like a lunatic, but it was more important to me to keep my family together. I just accepted that he was fallible. Faith and I would never welcome the new girlfriend into the fold with open arms, but I forced myself to tolerate her and worked on interacting with my dad in a nonresentful way every time I saw him. I think a little part of me expected nothing less from him just because he was a man and I had this belief that all men would ultimately gravitate toward the shiny, prettier, and his case younger option when it came to thinking with what was in their pants.
I had to go slowly and concentrate, which was harder than usual because I was so emotionally drained. I couldn’t get the girl, the horrible loss from yesterday, out of my mind. I also couldn’t stop the endless replay of the way I had thrown myself at Nash from rolling over my eyes every time they drifted shut last night, which led to a sleepless night. Twice now we had shared a kiss in the midst of an emotional upheaval, both times it had made the situation more tolerable, more a shadow than a suffocating fog of bad feelings and hurt. I didn’t want to name what that meant, but I couldn’t deny that kissing him made me feel restored and set me back on solid ground. The fact he didn’t push me away, didn’t grill me endlessly about it, forced me to question all the memories I had that reminded me over and over again that I was supposed to think Nash was a heartless jerk.
I’d been seconds away from accepting his invitation to the wedding, even though the idea of spending time around him, around his friends and a bunch of strangers, made me want to hyperventilate. Thank God he had told me to think about it. There was some kind of current dragging and pulling between us that I didn’t trust, didn’t particularly like, but it was strong, and fighting its momentum was wearing me out, wearing me down. I actually wanted to spend time with him.
When he told me about his mom, how he used the words I know how it feels, Saint … it altered my entire perception of who I thought he was and who he really might be. Hearing that you were fat and ugly, that no one liked you, and that you would never have friends or get a boyfriend sucked coming from kids your own age, but kids could be mean and hopefully they would grow out of it. Being made to feel worthless and unwanted by a parent … that had to be devastating and nearly impossible to get over. I couldn’t even get my head around it. I didn’t want to examine too closely why that made a pang near my heart start to throb in pain or why the idea of him being against marriage and forever with one person made me a little queasy.
By the time I pulled into the driveway of my mom’s house, the trip had taken an hour longer than it should have and a full-on snowstorm was working through the mountains. I jogged up to the front door and rang the bell. I did a double take when my mom pulled open the door. It was one in the afternoon, she still had her pajamas on, and she was holding a half-empty wineglass in her hand. As she swayed slightly and glared at me, I didn’t believe for one second it was her first glass of the day, and that made my stomach drop.
“What are you doing here, Saint?”
There was no welcome in her tone, so I maneuvered past her and walked into the house. Before the split, she would have pulled me into her arms and hugged the life out of me whether I needed it or not. She would have asked me about work and my dating life. Now she looked irritated that I had crashed her pity party.
“Faith called me. She told me about the fire and I thought I should come and check on you. We’re worried about you, Mom.” I fought the urge to reach for her drink so I could dump it out.
She scoffed at me and slammed the door shut. I winced when some of the wine in her glass sloshed over her hand.
“You should be worrying about yourself, Saint.”
We might not have the kind of mother-daughter relationship where we were the best of friends, but my mom had never purposely lashed out at me in anger before. I reached out and snatched the wineglass out of her hand and stomped to the kitchen. Stung and annoyed by both her tone and her attitude.
“You shouldn’t be drinking anything alcoholic while you’re on so many different medications. This is ridiculous, Mom. You want to push me away by being purposefully nasty and by trying to force Faith to choose between you and Dad. You’re making this situation harder on everybody. The stunt with the fire …” I shook my head at her. “Is that a desperate cry for attention? Who did you think was going to swoop in and save you if you got arrested for arson? Dad? Well, I hate to break the news to you, but he’s moved on and so should you. Faith and I love you, Mom. That should be enough.”
She ground her teeth together and glared at me. Her eyes were glassy and she was even more unsteady on her feet than I thought. It sucked to see her this way, but it strengthened the idea that opening yourself up to someone else just to have them hurt you in the end was such an awful idea.
“What do you know about anything, Saint? You’ve never had love ripped away from you, never even had a man of your own. I feel empty inside.”
I sucked in a breath through my teeth and tried to remember that this was the wine and pills talking, but she was pushing the limits of what I was going to tolerate. I was going to tell her in no uncertain terms to knock it the hell off when she suddenly burst into tears and teetered over to the massive island in the center of the kitchen. She curled her hands around a stack of papers I didn’t notice before and waved them around in the air between us. I saw a sheen of glossy tears coat her wild eyes.
“I got the final divorce papers in the mail last weekend, and on top of that, your sister let the kids spend the weekend with him and that … that woman. How could she do that to me? She knows how I feel about his new girlfriend being my family. I just lost it. I literally went a little crazy.”
She was breathing really hard and looked so jagged and frayed around the edges that I had to walk over and wrap my arm around her too-thin shoulders. I felt an additional pang of alarm. She was shaking really hard and I felt like I could actually touch her sadness. This is what loving someone unconditionally ended you up with. I never wanted to be here.
“That had to be really hard, Mom. And I understand that you’re hurting, but almost burning down the house isn’t going to change any of it. There has to be a healthier way for you to deal with what you’re feeling because I don’t think claiming temporary insanity is going to keep you out of the hot seat for very long.”
She peeked out between her fingers at me and I winced at the makeup smeared across her normally pretty face. She looked like a drunken and demented clown. I wanted my mom back, wanted my family to be like it was. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option.