I pause. I pushed her down the stairs and broke her leg. I threatened her with a knife. Yet, here she is, begging me to talk to her.
I turn to face her. “Why?”
She blinks, looking confused at me. “Why what, sweetie?”
“Why don’t you hate me for what I did?”
My father appears in the kitchen doorway, lingering on the threshold to watch and listen. I know he doesn’t fully trust me alone with her. I don’t blame him.
“Why would I hate you? You were on drugs and so many things. You were sick. I can’t hate you for that. You’re my baby, Gracie. I know you didn’t mean what you did.”
I shake my head, swallowing hard as I fight back another slaughter of tears. I uncurl my fingers from around the doorknob and drop my hand to my side.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, daddy, but right now, I’m dealing with a lot of shit, and most of it is due to the fact I can’t deal with either Devon or Owen having girlfriends. I want them both. Most girls want one guy, are set on one guy. Not me. I want them both. I’m not normal, and I know that. I’ve never been normal—"
“And nothing is wrong with that,” my mother cuts in. “We love you just the way you are, Gracie. But look, you can stay for a few nights. A week, tops, to get your head straight, okay? But you can’t give up on your life because you’re having a hard time.”
I nod and pick at my cuticles, focusing on them for a moment. It’s time to change the subject. I’m only going to make myself miserable keeping on this topic. Plus, I know that arguing with my parents isn’t going to go down very well. “I did meet another guy.” I finally say.
“You did?” My mother perks up and reaches out, taking my hand to pull me to the couch and sit next to her. “Tell me about him.”
“I met him at a coffee shop,” I start, glancing slyly at my father.
He smiles at me, though I can tell it's forced, and holds up a hand to excuse himself before leaving to join the group in the backyard. I know he doesn’t want to hear about my complicated love life, and honestly, that’s okay. I don’t even know how to explain it.
“That’s a good step,” my mother continues. “Why didn’t you invite him today?”
I shake my head again. “It’s... complicated. I don’t even know if he likes me that way anymore. We had a date, and it kind of got messy.”
She smiles in understanding. “The one Landon and Marcy were jabbering about?”
I flinch. I know Marcy wouldn’t have pressed the subject, so it was my nephew. I’m going to kill him. Not now, though. Instead, I nod in confirmation.
“Just call him, Gracie. You never know unless you ask,” my mom points out.
I hesitate but nod again. I open my mouth to say something, to continue and tell her how Colton makes me feel all fluttery inside, the way Devon and Owen still do at the rare moments they look at me when their girlfriends aren’t around. I want to tell her everything. I want us to have a close relationship, but when I try, something lodges those words inside me, and I back down. I don’t know why, but it scares me to tell her everything. Maybe it’s the whole judgment thing. I don’t want her to look at me differently or treat me differently. Or maybe it’s just that we’ve never had a close relationship before, and the fact that I hurt her doesn’t help one damn bit.
So, I shut down, feeling gritty inside because of it. I want more than anything to have a solid relationship with my mother and gab about everything. The way I’ve seen both my sisters and my sister-in-law do. My sister-in-law even has weekly lunches with my mom. I want that too. But I don’t know how to or even where to start.
Clunky footsteps draw my eyes up to Devon as he steps over the threshold of the living room and kitchen. He stops in his tracks, looking sheepish as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Marcy told me you had a panic attack. I just came to check on you,” he babbles and smiles at my mom. “Hey mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she greets and gets up.
My heart swells as they embrace. I love their relationship. I love how my mom took in both Devon and Owen long ago like she just knew they were meant to be part of the family and didn’t even question it. I want to be a mom like her one day. I don’t know when exactly, but soon, I hope. I want to hope soon anyway. But it’s still a farfetched dream. Because even to have a kid, I need a guy willing to step in and do that deed with me and right now, my entire love life is fucked up, and my sobriety is shaking. I know it is.
I shift on the couch before standing up. “I gotta go find Trish,” I explain when they look at me.
Nobody asks why as I leave to the backyard. They don’t need to. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe.
Chapter22
Devon
My gaze follow Gracie as she leaves the house and goes into the backyard. Her hips sway, and I can’t help but watch them. Realizing that mom is watching me, I clear my throat and pull my eyes away from her and around me. Mom stares at me with an eyebrow cocked, a knowing smile on her face. She lifts a hand and presses her finger to her lips, telling me that my secret is safe with her. I can feel the heat in my face, and I look away, pretending that I don’t know what’s going on. She pats my shoulder and lifts up on her tiptoes to peck a kiss on my cheek before following Gracie out the door.
Gracie is a clone of mom. Straight black hair, beautiful brown eyes, and high cheekbones. I don’t know if mom has some of the same physical looks I love about Gracie. It’d be weird to notice those things about the woman who took me in as one of hers and kept me, figuratively speaking, despite me and Gracie’s breakup.