Kindness I wasn’t worthy of but not stupid enough to let slip away.
“I will never in my lifetime do anything to be the kind of man you deserve. I know you deserve so much better. I know it, but, baby, I cannot let you go. It’s gonna have to be you.”
“What’s gonna have to be me?”
“I won’t ever walk away from you, so it’s gonna be you. When you’re done putting up with my shit, and you’ve figured out what a cocksucker Guy Stevens is, and you realize everything he did was because he’s a fuck-up loser and it had nothing to do with you, you’ll remember. And when you do you’re gonna leave me.”
There it was, the truth hung between us. I would never leave Lauren. I would never find the strength to be the better man and step aside so she could find love and happiness. I would linger like a black cloud, selfish in my need. Desperate to hold on to her.
“Is that what you think?” Disdain dripped off every word. “That I don’t know that what Guy did was about him? I didn’t snort coke off a hooker’s boobs. I didn’t cheat. I’m not a criminal and liar. He is. And that’s not why I’ve decided I’d rather be alone. Well, that’s part of it. But mostly, I’ve decided I’m never going to be someone’s sucker ever again. I like myself too much to let myself get walked on again. I’d rather be by myself and be happy than have my heart broken.”
“Ren—”
“Drop it, Logan. I need to pack so we can leave.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“Yeah, I do, unless I want to bail you out of jail later. Or alternately bail one of your sisters out of jail after they attempt to drown you in that hot tub Jackie was so excited about.”
And here I thought Lauren missed the dirty looks Jill and Jackie were casting my way.
“You’re observant,” I noted.
“No, they weren’t hiding their irritation and your mom looked like she was on pins and needles. The only one who looked perfectly at ease was Ian. He’s not stupid, Logan. He knows why you don’t like him, and one look at him and the way he acted says he understands.”
Screw Ian Webster and his understanding.
Lauren breathed an impatient sigh and loosened her arms. But before she pulled away she rolled up on her toes and kissed my jaw.
“Just watch and listen tonight,” she whispered. “Give him a chance to prove he’s who he says he is or prove he’s really a bastard. But you won’t know if you don’t get to know him.”
With that Lauren walked away.
I watched as she disappeared into her bedroom, thinking the fuck of it was I believed Ian was who he said he was. I believed he loved his wife. I believed he was a man of character. Yet I still couldn’t untwist the memories that plagued my mind.
“I like her.” My mom beamed.
This felt like a trap. Either she was hoping I’d return the sentiment and tell her I liked Ian or he was at least growing on me or she was fishing for information about me and Lauren. So I kept my eyes on the front door of the store my sisters and Lauren had gone into and shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
“I like that she’s a little shy. I think she balances you out. Though she warmed up to Jilly and Jackie quickly.”
“Are you saying I’m a jabber jaw?”
“No. But you don’t need to talk; it’s your presence that’s commanding. Lauren softens you.”
Not that I’d tell my mother, but the last thing Lauren did was make me soft. I’d been fighting wood for the last three hours we’d been on the beach. It didn’t matter Lauren’s one-piece bathing suit covered more than any of the other women under fifty. The pale yellow made her skin glow and the deep V in the front couldn’t hide her cleavage.
That reminded me. “You need to tell Jill and Jackie to buy new bathing suits.”
“I think they’re way past the age where they’ll listen to me. All of you are.”
It was my mother’s exhalation that told me she was gearing up for a Mom Talk. One I’d been studiously avoiding all day. But now that Lauren and my sisters were shopping and Ian was down the street making reservations at the restaurant my mom wanted to go to, we were all alone.
Fuck.
I needed Lauren.
“I’m scared for you,” my mom whispered.
“What?” I shifted on the bench and the look on my mom’s face cut deep.
“I’m scared that you’re so caught in the past, in bad, that you cannot see the blessings in front of you.”
My mouth filled with saliva which was unfortunate because that meant I couldn’t stop my mother from continuing.
“You know, for ten seconds after I killed your father I felt relief. I felt joy. I felt the chain break. We were free. But, Logan, son, that eleventh second comes, and the fifteenth, and the thirtieth, and relief turns into doubt. It turns into guilt.”
“Guilt? That asshole beat you. He beat me. Why the hell would you feel guilty? You saved us.”
“You misunderstand. There’s never been and there never will be a moment when I’ve felt guilt or remorse for killing him. Truth be told I should’ve done it before that day. The guilt comes from what I did to you. In that eleventh second when the relief waned I saw you on the floor bleeding, staring up at me with wide eyes, and your father was next to you dead. I did that. I killed him in front of you. And for that, I will forever feel guilt.”
No.
No more.
I couldn’t stomach any more.
“Mom—”
“You have this picture of family in your mind and you won’t let it go. The way you grew up, what you saw, son, that image is warped. It’s not right. And I need you to erase it so you can break the cycle. You’re squandering your life, Logan. You’re denying yourself happiness.”
I forced my body to remain still, forced myself not to jump off the bench and run, forced myself to breathe.
Break the cycle.
That was what I was doing by not falling in love. Not finding a wife. Not having children. I was breaking the fucking cycle. No wife meant I couldn’t beat her. No kids meant I couldn’t hurt them.
“I can’t take the chance,” I told her.
“What chance?”
“That I’m like him.”
My mother gasped and her hands slowly lifted like they always did when she reached out to touch one of us. Her movements were gentle, slow—soft so as not to scare us. It had been a long time since I’d flinched when someone reached for me. A long time since I’d felt helpless. A long time since I was a little boy powerless to stop my father from hurting my mom, but she still moved gently. But when her hands cupped my cheeks they were anything but soft.
And just as fiercely as she was holding my face she rapped out each angry word. “Listen. To. Me. You are nothing like him. Not one goddamn thing!”
I was unsure which was more shocking—my mother saying a curse word or the way she’d jerked my neck around as she spoke.
Someone behind me cleared his throat and I knew it was Ian. My mother’s gaze went over my shoulder and I waited. When I was a child this was when she’d close down. When my father caught her hugging me, cuddling me, speaking quietly to me, my father would rage and tell her to stop making me into a pussy. My mother’s eyes would flash, then she’d back away. She’d learned what happened if she didn’t. It wouldn’t be her who would get a beating, it would be me. He’d yell that I needed to toughen up and he’d slap me around a few times to drive his lesson home.