Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,96

how it accommodated both profound love and profound disappointment. I’d loved my mother and could never adequately articulate the enormity of my devotion to her.

But I’d hated what she’d become, the things that she did for a time.

I’d hated how my anger changed me, how much it had reminded me of my own father.

“I got angry. Lost my temper.”

She only nodded, encouraging me to go on. But she leaned forward and one of her small hands captured mine.

It all came back with startling clarity, probably because those memories never left. They had always stayed with me, my constant companions of regret.

The night it all happened, I’d discovered over two weeks’ worth of earnings from my job, saved for groceries and the electric bill, was missing. Disappeared. Only thin air greeted me when I’d cracked open the cigar box. I’d been careful. Found a new hiding place. And yet, the money had vanished. I knew where it had gone, and why my mother had left the house again.

When she’d returned home, I’d emerged from my room. It had been obvious there would be no productive conversation. No apologetic weeping or rage that I dared to question her. She was sprawled on the couch, dead to the world.

With a baggie of pills next to her on the coffee table.

I’d stared at the white tablets, reliving our trip to the grocery store earlier that evening. My mother and I were leaving the Piggly Wiggly when one of the bikers called to her. Not in a leering or appreciative way.

In a familiar way.

“Hey, pretty Lila. You ain’t gonna introduce us to your son?” He dangled a small bag in the air. “Got a new shipment in.”

She ignored the man but there was no mistaking the invitation in the sly, teasing words and I could no longer lie to myself. She’d gotten in deep with the wrong kind of company.

My mother, Lila Rossi—baker of the best chocolate chip cookie, Dr. Who fan, OB nurse, biology wiz, giver of the best hugs, two-letter-word-Scrabble-expert—didn’t just have a problem.

She was an addict.

I’d called 911 and the paramedics rushed her to the hospital. She’d narrowly escaped death, but for both of us, our futures in Green Valley ended that night.

I couldn’t look Zora in the eyes. “Do you remember when the Iron Wraiths used to hang out at the bar next to the Piggly Wiggly?”

She leaned forward. “Yes. We weren’t allowed to go at night. They were dealing.”

“They were her dealers. After the paramedics managed to revive her and took her on to the hospital, I decided to return her purchase.” Deliberately, I flattened my hands against the surface of the table so they wouldn’t curl into fists.

“What happened?” Zora looked alarmed. She gripped my hand and the edge of the table.

“I, uh, trashed their bikes. The Iron Wraiths.” I kneaded my forehead. I’d replayed this moment again and again in my mind, played with alternate endings.

What if I hadn’t lost my temper? What if my mother had resisted the impulse to get high that night?

What would our lives look like now?

“And then what happened?” Her voice was shrill.

I straightened and met her gaze. I needed to be direct and factual for the rest of this story.

“Sheriff James just happened to be on patrol. He waded in and rescued me from an enraged band of bikers, all by himself. Got me back to the hospital where my mother was. I’d known, before I’d left and gone on my mission of destruction, that she was okay. But the doctor and nurse wanted to talk about options for rehab. Getting her out of the environment, away from all her usual dealers and suppliers.” Some of the same despair and hopelessness I’d felt that night returned.

It was a terrible thing to be helpless. To be without the resources or the solutions you needed in a crisis.

My choices had been few.

“Sheriff James called your parents. They came down.”

She held up a hand. “Wait—what did you just say? My parents were there? They knew about all of this?”

Yep, this wouldn’t be easy.

“Your parents came. They offered to help.”

“And how did they help?” Her voice was low and dangerous.

“They asked me what I wanted to do. They offered every option they could think of. I could stay here in Green Valley, they’d take care of her rehab, find her a bed in a residential program a few counties over. Send her to my aunt in Michigan, where she had family and a support system so