Chapter 41

chapter

forty-one

OWEN

"Are you ready for our chat yet? Because I could use your advice," I plead.

Smiling warmly, Mom ushers me inside. "You take a seat. I'll get us some sweet tea."

"Thanks," I call over my shoulder as I power walk toward the living room, where I make myself comfortable on the couch.

Except there is no such thing.

I could lie down on a bed of fluffy puppies, and I still wouldn't be at ease, not with Addie and me in such a fucking mess.

Mom returns with a tray, on top of which she's arranged two glasses, a pitcher, and a ceramic bowl of cut-up lemons. As she pours us each a glass, I clear my throat and say, "Thanks again for helping with Addie yesterday. I couldn't be there myself, and it was a relief to know you were there."

"Of course, darlin'." She squeezes my chin between her thumb and forefinger, wiggling my face this way and that as if I'm twelve again. It's what she always used to do, following it up with, "What a handsome boy you are."

I know Dad's proud of me for the most part, but Mom has always been my number one fan, no matter what.

"I'm actually surprised you were free to help. I know you have your hands full." I shift on the couch as I sip from the glass.

"I'm never too busy for my favorite son."

I chuckle. "I'm your only son."

She sinks onto the other end of the couch and lifts a brow, her lip twitching. "I'm surprised you asked for my help to begin with. You never do."

I angle my large frame toward her, swallowing most of the couch. "Sure, I do."

"You have always been fiercely independent, son. When you had surgery, I offered to come up and help you around the house, but you'd hired strangers to clean and cook for you. When you moved from Atlanta, none of us knew you'd already packed and sold your house. You told us after the fact, per usual. It's like you don't want to give us the opportunity to lend a hand, but that's what family does. We're there for one another."

"I couldn't agree more. It's why I was happy to move back here. I love being here for the girls, and for you and Dad."

"What about you, dear? Who's there for you? Because you don't want us to be."

"That's not true." I shake my head and set the glass onto a coaster on the coffee table. "I know you're all busy with a million things, and I don't want to make your lives harder."

"How come you let us make yours harder? It's not fair, is it?"

"You're not making it harder, Mom. How could you say that?"

"How could you say it about us?" she shoots back with a glimmer in her eye.

"Point made." I crack a sad smile as guilt swims through my stomach. Sighing, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. "Sometimes, I feel invisible," I admit quietly, my voice a lower octave than usual. It's almost like it doesn't belong to me. "Like I'm just the funny guy everyone wants around for a laugh, but that's it. That's all I'm good for, plus household repairs and babysitting. Sometimes, I think if I didn't help so much, you all would forget about me entirely."

Mom places both hands over her heart, the hurt in her eyes a stab in my chest.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Mom," I reassure her. "It's me. It's my own insecurities. Please don't feel like I'm blaming you for anything."

She swallows, and the thick sound indicates it's not so easy. My pulse spikes—and not in the good way like it does after a particularly rewarding day of students overcoming their individual obstacles and accomplishing goals.

It's in the antsy way like after I swerve my car on the road to narrowly miss a deer.

Why did I say anything? This isn't why I came here. I came to talk about Addie, not the relationship with my family.

"You should blame me—all of us," she says softly.

"It's not you. I'm not mad at any of you."

"You should be," she asserts more firmly than before as her tone grows in weight and gravity. "We've dropped the ball, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry we've asked so much of you, and I'm sorry I didn't try harder to be there for you, even when you said you didn't need me. You're my son, and I should've known better than to leave you be. I just never wanted to push you too much. I didn't want to push you away."

I dip my head like it's too heavy to hold up.

Mom laughs, but it holds a lot of sadness. "I think the strong ones are often overlooked, and you're one of the strongest people I know. It's not always obvious when the strong struggle, and we need to do better about that, starting now. Tell me what's on your mind, Owen, and don't you dare say everything's fine." She holds up a finger. "I won't have it. I'm not going to let you leave until you tell me everything."

"What? Are you going to tie me to the fridge?" I tease.

"There's an idea." She smiles back. "But how about I just bribe you with sweet potato pie?"

"You know the way to my heart."

She stands and pats my shoulder. "Walk with me, darlin'."

I slide onto a stool at the counter while she pilfers through cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware, my body heavy as I absorb her apology.

It was important to share my truth with her, after all.

When Addie had asked me last weekend if I thought it would help to talk to my parents, I'd said no. I didn't think it would change anything, but I was wrong.

I've been quietly strong for most of my life. I've been a rock for my family—one that comes with countless jokes in my back pocket.

But I don't always have to be, do I?

Although it's too soon to tell, and I should probably also air things out with my father, it's already obvious to me that my mother and I are headed down a new path.

She meant what she said.

"Spill." She waves a fork for me to talk, then grabs a silver pie spatula to ease a slice from the whole.

"I've been secretly seeing Addie."

"And?"

"I thought you'd have more of a reaction."

"It was hardly a secret, son. You two were obviously together. The way you looked at her was like Laurel looking at her medical textbooks. Give me a little more credit." She tilts her head.

As she sets a plate of pie in front of me, I blow out an exhale as I pick up the fork and toy with the crust of the slice. "The truth is, I never wanted it to be a secret at all, but I agreed because she's scared of putting our jobs in danger."

"And you're not scared?"

"Not enough to stop…" I choke back the word—the four-letter word I haven't even uttered to Addie herself.

I can't tell my mother before I tell her.

"Loving her?" Mom finishes, anyway.

Guess she will know before Addie .

I definitely should've given Mom more credit. She knows me better than I thought.

And no matter who learns it first, it doesn't change the fact that it's true. I'm in love with Addie. She makes me crazy, and I actually love how strongly I feel things when I'm with her.

She grounds me when I'm lost.

With her, I'm seen.

With her, I'm a much better person, and it's because of Addie that I'm even here having this pivotal conversation with my mother. Had she not kicked me out of her house, I wouldn't have ended up in this scenario now, or maybe ever.

I simply nod as my heart jumps into my throat.

"She feels the same way—I know she does," I insist.

"That much is obvious as well." Mom takes a bite of her pie and shrugs, as if it's as strong a fact as the sun being bright.

"I gave her an ultimatum." I hang my head and nudge my pie away. I don't fucking deserve it after what I did. What was I even thinking?

"You did what?" She freezes with her fork midair.

"I told her if she wouldn't disclose our relationship to the school administration and this town, then she and I were done," I grumble.

From the other side of the counter, she grabs me by the chin, but this time, it's not so cute and comforting. She jerks it like she's pissed. "How could you put so much pressure on her like that? Surely there's a better way to solve this with a compromise—one that's fair for you both."

"It's either we keep hiding or tell Principal Weathers and everyone else. What compromise is there?" I yank my chin from her grasp and stand to pace behind the row of stools. "And if we keep hiding like she wants, for how long? To what end? Won't we just be making it worse the longer we keep pretending there's nothing going on between us?"

"Does your need to share this relationship with everyone have anything to do with your concern that if you don't lock her down now, she'll leave? That she won't stick around for longer than just a laugh—isn't that what you said before?"

My own mother using my words against me should be criminal.

I stop dead in my tracks and place my hands on both hips. Like it or not—and I really don't fucking like it—she's right. I'm afraid Addie's having fun with me now. That she's letting loose for the first time in her life, and she's attracted to the wild ride more than she is me.

But the good times won't last. What happens when the laughter stops?

"Darlin', that girl is crazy about you. We spent one night with you both, and we all knew it was the real deal. Your sisters haven't stopped talking about it."

"You all have been talking about my personal life behind my back?" I level her with a firm glare.

"Your personal life is all our business, just as the girls' lives are too. That's how it is in this family. You know that." She scoffs and gobbles another bite of pie, calmer than the still air before a storm.

"Unbelievable," I grumble.

"As I was saying… She's serious about you, and not just for the fun." She rounds the counter and stands in front of me. "You realize that she didn't have to come in the other night and meet us all, right? She knew we were having a family dinner, and she joined us, anyway. Whether she's old-fashioned or a more modern woman, in any case, meeting family is a big deal. And she strode in with shoulders high and shot the shit with us the entire night. People don't go to such lengths for a meaningless fling."

"I want to say you're right."

"Then just say it." She shrugs again, but this time, she has a twinkle in her eye. "Son, actions speak much louder than words. Like this pie, for instance."

"Pie?"

She points to my slice of sweet potato pie, which I've abandoned. "Your aunt Ruth goes on about me not liking her recipes, and she never believes me when I tell her I do. She's always thought the worst of me."

I arch a brow. This is the first I'm hearing of my father's sister not liking Mom. She definitely isn't obvious about it, but it could be a Southern thing. Everyone's polite, even in their rudeness.

"But I make her recipes for pie, casseroles, and even stuffing for Thanksgiving, and I always credit her when I'm complimented. Actions mean everything." She pats my cheek, and already, I feel better.

Not that I'm out of the woods just yet.

"You've shown her you love her, haven't you?" Mom asks, but the serene clarity in her eyes indicates she knows as much.

I confirm, anyway. "What do I do now?" I whisper, fucking desperate for her ideas.

"For starters, you have to take back the ultimatum. Nothing good ever comes of one."

"I can do that. I can take it back." I nod, but the uneasy feeling from this morning comes rushing back.

Will she forgive me for being such an ass about this whole thing?