him, he couldn’t fight her off. He just cried into her shoulder. He didn’t care that the Merricks could see him; he didn’t care that this was the same woman who’d watched his grandfather belt him across the face and throw him out of the house.
This was his mother.
And right now, he’d do anything for one minute of her comfort.
Especially since she was giving it.
She smelled like cotton and cloves and vanilla and home. He didn’t want to let her go.
But doing this forever wouldn’t solve anything.
When he finally raised his eyes from her shoulder, he was surprised to find that they were alone.
“They went to get some food,” she said softly. “They’ll be back in a bit.”
He went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. All of a sudden, the distance between them, packed with unspoken secrets and betrayals, felt like miles.
When he turned, she was sitting at the table.
He wanted to be sharp, like he’d been the last time she’d visited him. But now life had shifted, leaving him stronger, yes, but also more vulnerable.
“What are you doing here?” he said slowly.
“Michael called and said he’d found you.”
So that had been the phone call in the car. Not Hannah.
He leaned against the counter and studied the tiles under her feet. “Were you missing me?”
“Hunter, I’ve been missing you since the day your father died.”
He jerked his head up. “You couldn’t prove it by me.”
She blanched. It should have been satisfying. It wasn’t.
But then she recovered. “Will you sit and talk to me?”
He sat. He crossed his arms on the table and didn’t look at her. He felt weak now, for breaking down upon seeing her.
She put a hand on his arm. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you cry since your father died.”
He left her hand there. She had bracelets just like his, only hers were strung on ribbons and braided leather instead of twine. He might have made one of hers when he was little—he couldn’t remember.
He didn’t move away from her touch. But he made his voice hard. “I think you did enough crying for both of us.”
“Is that what you thought? That I missed him too much to care about you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No! Never.” Now both her hands were on his arm, and her voice was so soft. “Is that what this is about? Are you angry with me for missing him?”
“No. Yes. I don’t—yes.” He pushed her hands away.
“Is that why you hit that girl? Because you were angry at me?”
“Goddamn it, I didn’t hit Calla!”
She flinched from his anger. He didn’t even regret it. His breathing was fast, almost to the point that he couldn’t catch it.
Then his night caught up with him again, and he put his face in his hands. “Forget it.” His voice was thick now. “Just go away.”
It took everything he had to keep tears from falling again.
She touched his wrist, her fingers light against his skin. “I do miss him, Hunter. I do. But I’m your mother—”
“No!” He flung her hand off. “No. A mother wouldn’t have just sat there.”
Her eyes were wide. She didn’t have to ask what he meant.
She cleared her throat, but the words still sounded strangled. “I am your mother. But this has all been difficult for me—”
“You’re right,” he said, sharpening his voice with sarcasm. “I’m the one being selfish. I probably should have left earlier.”
She sat there looking shocked. He felt vindicated for about three seconds.
Then she started crying.
He hated her for it. Hated her.
And he hated himself for it, too.
“I miss him,” she said, and her voice was full of tears, but anger, too. “I loved him, Hunter. Do you understand that? I loved him. He understood me. He was my best friend. And can I tell you how much it hurts me that you look at me with such resentment every time I express any grief? Do you have any idea?”
Hunter went absolutely still.
No. He had no idea.
“I am your mother,” she continued, her voice still shaky, but strong. “I lost my husband in that car crash—thank god I didn’t lose my son. But you came home from the hospital with nothing but hatred for me. Every time you looked at me, I felt it. So then I wasn’t mourning one loss, but two.”
“I didn’t hate you,” he whispered.
But she was right. He had.
“Yes,” she said. “You did. And I knew you were grieving, too. I tried to understand it. I thought we could come here and start