Chapter 18

5 years ago…

Mo

I have to tell her.

My heart drops as I reach for my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find my mother's name. My thumb hovers over the call button, panic already sinking in. Taking a deep breath, I mentally scold myself for being such a coward.

If anyone would understand the questions surrounding my sexuality, it would be the woman who raised me.

Right as I go to press the call button, an incoming call flashes across my screen. A smile breaks free, the tension easing from my body the moment I press accept.

"I was just about to call you."

My mother laughs, the familiar sound tugging at my chest, "Finally realized you miss me?"

"I miss having my laundry done."

She laughs again and more weight falls from my shoulders. My father may have raised me to be successful, but my mother raised me to be human.

"Besides being cheeky, how is my eldest son?"

"Fine. Grades are up and my lacrosse training is showing promise for this season."

The automatic response flies out of my mouth and she sucks in a breath.

"Is your father still asking for progress updates?"

I wince at her sharp tone, "No."

"Maurice Jonathan O'Brien. Did you just lie to your mother?"

I sigh, "The biweekly reports are to ensure I stay accountable. I can't take over the family business if my grades are simply average."

"I don't care about your grades and your father shouldn't either. University is a chance to discover who you are without any expectations or responsibility."

I walk into my dorm room, shut the door, and lean against it heavily.

"Just because I'm not in Vancouver doesn't mean the expectations go away. How are things back home, anyway?"

She falls silent and I can tell she's not happy about the change in conversation.

"Things are good here, although I think Stella misses you."

I smile, "A sentiment I'm sure she would deny. Are you still coming down for the tournament next weekend?"

My mother huffs, "What a ridiculous question. Your sister and I have already discussed what outfits to wear. The face paint is still in debate because it was so messy last time."

"The ridiculous question is why a mother and her teenage daughter would wear face paint in public."

She laughs, "Now we have to wear it."

Shaking my head with a smile, I walk over to the tiny desk pushed against the far wall and sit on the edge. Silence stretches between us and I feel the uncomfortable truth start to make its way to the surface.

"Mom, I think I might be-

"I'm taking your sister to New York."

My mouth snaps shut as my brain registers the shift in her tone.

"What?"

She sighs, "Your sister is not doing well. I didn't want to tell you before the big game next weekend but she's been struggling with school and that boyfriend of hers is causing unnecessary drama."

My jaw clenches, "I thought you said things were good."

"They are good, just not with Stella." She pauses as though sensing my darkening mood, "We are going to have a little getaway, buy some fabulous clothes, and things will be right as rain."

Protectiveness surges through me, "I can fly home."

"As much as I would love to see you, I have to say no. Stella and I are flying out tomorrow and you need to focus on this upcoming tournament. You don't want all that training and hard work to go to waste."

I bite my cheek, smothering the urge to argue, "Fine."

"I can't wait to see you next weekend." She sighs, "Stella isn't the only one who has missed you."

"I miss you too."

My mother blows me a kiss through the phone, "I better let you go. Take care of yourself and I'll see you next weekend. Love you."

"Love you too."

Hanging up, I shake my head and look at the black screen of my phone in disgust.

Jonathan was right. I'm not strong enough.

1 week later…

"Did you hear some of the guys are calling you Mighty Mo?" Brett grins, pulling his lacrosse jersey over his head, "Something about your popularity with the lacrosse bunnies."

Grabbing my helmet from the locker, I turn to him with a smirk, "And what do the guys call you?"

"Fuck you."

Brett grabs his water bottle and sprays me, making me jump back with a laugh. We have an hour to kill before warm-up starts and most of my teammates are buzzing with nerves. I'm feeling excited but in control, the perfect combination of adrenalin and anticipation flowing through my veins.

My ringtone goes off and I frown, reaching into my locker to grab my phone. I always silence it before games to ensure my distractions are kept to a minimum.

Reading the name flashing on my screen, I bite back a groan.

"Father, I can't talk right now." There's a heavy silence on the other end, and for the first time today, I feel my body start to tense.

"Father?"

Brett shoots me a questioning glance, but I turn away.

"You need to come home."

There's something off about Jonathan's voice, his usual commanding tone missing its usual bite. Unease pricks my skin as I exit the locker room, seeking privacy from the suspicious eyes of my teammates.

"I have a game in an hour."

Not that you would know that.

A twinge of annoyance seeps through my discomfort. For all his concern about my league status and academic records, when it comes to being a present father, Jonathan is severely lacking. If it weren't for the affection he showered over my mother, I would think he was incapable of loving at all.

"There's been an accident."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but once they do, panic floods my body. My mouth goes dry as a wave of nausea hits me, my knees almost buckling as I drop onto a nearby bench.

"Stella?" Fear builds with every beat of my heart, the pressure increasing until it feels like I'm about to explode.

"She's in Emergency."

My mind flashes to every worst case scenario but nothing prepares me for what my father says next.

"Your sister will be okay but your mother… she's dead."

By the time I make it to the Vancouver General Hospital, Brett has messaged me saying the Tigers won the game. I feel nothing as I read the message, my mind and body on autopilot as I turn off my phone. Life in Taber didn't press pause just because I'm rushing to a hospital to see what's left of my sister. It continues as it always has. Even though my favourite person in the world is no longer in it.

There's a part of me that doesn't believe my mother is dead. A part of me hopes that I'm rushing into the hospital to find both my mother and Stella waiting for me. It's a silly, irrational thought but it's the only one I've got.

Marching to the front desk, I hand the tired nurse my credentials.

"I'm looking for my sister, Stella O'Brien. Can you point me in the right direction?"

She takes a glance at my ID and points to the corridor to our right.

"First door on your left. Should be room 817."

"Thank you."

Resisting the urge to sprint in that direction, I walk as fast as possible to the designated door. Flinging it open, I'm almost knocked over by a nurse rushing through. The sight of her stained scrubs immediately puts a sour taste in my mouth.

Where the hell is my sister?

The corridor looks like a scene straight from a horror movie: doctors and nurses rushing past while bloodied and moaning patients are being wheeled into different rooms. Gritting my teeth, I make my way down the hall, scanning for the right room number. My father's cold, clipped tone catches my attention and I spot him barking into his cell phone outside the room at the very end. He looks exactly the same since the last time I saw him and relief crashes through me.

"Dad!"

Jonathan starts at my voice and quickly ends the call. My control slips and I finally let myself break into a run. I don't think before wrapping my arms around my father, his familiar build bringing a fleeting moment of peace.

"Tell me mom isn't really gone." My voice cracks and my shoulders start to shake as my control comes crashing down. Firm hands grip my shoulders and for a second I think he's going to hug me back.

"Maurice." Jonathan pushes me away and I stumble a couple of feet before looking at him in shock. His eyes narrow, their pale colour emptier than ever before.

"Pull yourself together. I did not raise my son to meltdown in public."

My spine immediately straightens but my hands continue to shake. Jonathan notices and curls his lips in disgust.

"Enough. Stop the dramatics and go take care of your sister. She needs you right now."

My brows pinch together as anger replaces the grief, "How can you be like this? Stella and I just lost our mother-

"And I lost my wife." Jonathan's eyes flash dangerously, "Don't think your loss is greater than mine, son. Your mother was mine long before you came into this world."

Despair wells up inside me, "It's not a competition! We just lost the heart of this family and you're acting like her death is something you can delegate. What if Stella needs you right now?"

What if I need you?

He shakes his head, "I can't deal with you right now. Go check on your sister while I deal with the lawyers."

Jonathan turns to go and I jump forward to grab his arm.

"Don't go. Please don't go."

Ripping his arm from my grasp, my father whirls around with a snarl, "I didn't teach you to beg, Maurice."

He hisses the words, each one sharpened to a point, "Grow up and be the man I raised you to be. Your mother thought you were strong enough to take over this family, so now it's time to prove it"s true."

I flinch and take a step back. His words sink into the fleshy tissue of my conscience and I feel my body stiffen. My mother's soft voice and laughing eyes flash through my mind one last time before I lock them away, pushing the heartache into a box so I can focus on the problem at hand.

"Understood." I meet Jonathan's cold stare with one of my own and he gives me a nod before walking away. I watch his jacket disappear down the hall, my teeth clenching against the swell of emotion fighting its way back to the surface.

Are you strong enough to take my place?

I close my eyes, forcing myself to count to ten before walking into my sister's hospital room. Deep blue eyes, so like our mother's, meet mine and Stella promptly bursts into tears. Frowning against the lump rising in my throat, I swallow thickly and walk closer to the fragile frame shaking under her hospital gown.

"Mom's g-g-gone." Stella sobs, the wrecked noise piercing through my armour. Unable to speak, I make calming noises as I grab her hand, rubbing it softly.

She hiccups, squeezing my fingers painfully, "W-What are we going to do?"

Forcing myself not to look at the bloodied bandages peeking through the slit of her hospital gown, I meet her eyes.

"We're going to do what O'Briens do best. Meet the challenge head-on."

Stella continues to cry and with each tear that hits her cheek, I feel pieces of my freedom slip away. My priorities begin to re-formulate in my head, a numbness washing over me as the margin for error narrows to the point of extinction.

There is no space for imperfections and there is no time for mistakes. My sister needs a loving brother and my father needs the perfect son.

It doesn't matter what I need anymore.

Pressing a kiss on her forehead, I whisper a promise into Stella's matted hair, "We're going to get through this, Stel. You and me."

Her bottom lip trembles, "I'm scared, Mo."

My lips pull into the smallest smile as the weight on my shoulders multiplies by tenfold.

"That's what I'm here for."