before, too, and—”
“What I’m trying to say is that you are beautiful, inside and out, and when you’re able to see, the whole world is going to be new. When you have choices in front of you, your eyes will pick based on what appeals most. I want that for you.”
“Are you assuming I’ll become shallow?” Her radiance broke into tiny specks and dimmed. “Once I can see, I’ll forsake inner beauty for things that are pleasing to the eye?”
“You will never be shallow, honey.”
“Then I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“You wouldn’t have chosen me if you could see,” Tucker said in a strangled rasp. “And part of me is glad I won’t be there when you can.”
He could feel the physical blow his words delivered to her.
Could feel it across the car.
Even though it was him that caused the hurt, his instinct to protect Mary from pain rose swiftly, prepared to punish, his fangs protracting from his gums, spearing into his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, dangerously close to ripping off the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like any of this is your fault. It’s not. I’m just being realistic. Some things are the same in the human world as they are in ours.”
“And in the human world, you weren’t wanted. Or sought after. So it must be the same now.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “You do want the bad parts of a pattern, don’t you? Maybe you only want the bad parts.”
A boulder took up residence in his stomach. “Come again?”
“You said you wanted road trips where everyone complains and a dirty house. You look forward to those things, while others focus on the good.”
“I see the good, too,” he muttered, not sure he liked where this was headed. “I wanted it as a human and I want it now.” I want you. I need you more than anything.
“Do you do anything to pursue it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve seen what happens when the good gets taken away, Mary. My father’s mind deteriorated over it. He became obsessed with some insane lie because the truth hurt too much. She just didn’t want us.” He cursed at the telling admission, dragging a hand down his face. “Him. I meant, she didn’t want him.”
“Did you?” Her lower lip trembled for a beat, but she firmed it, visibly refusing to give in to the pity she was feeling for him. “Don’t tell me I wouldn’t have chosen you. You tell yourself lies about not being wanted or worthy because you’re afraid to hope for good.”
“While my father lies to himself so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the bad.”
The road was water-like in front of him. Wavy. Lifting and lowering.
He’d been wearing a brown paper bag with eye holes, so he’d only been able to look straight forward, but now…now he could see that he’d been suffering from the same affliction as his father this whole time. They’d just handled the disappearance of his mother in different ways. She’d left a void and they’d filled it with a new reality of their choosing. Tucker’s father had refused to accept she left of her own free will. Tucker had accepted it, but assumed her leaving meant he was second rate. A man someone might settle for if they ran out of options.
Tucker’s gaze came back into focus and there it was, a few hundred yards away.
His home. The barn.
The satellites were still mounted on top, faded letters on the roof.
He used to feel humiliation when pulling up to this red fence with the missing wooden boards. A sense of resentment that his father couldn’t be normal, like everyone else’s dad. Maybe Tucker should have expected that such an extended absence would soften his judgment of Carl Moore. He never could have expected the wave of homesickness that battered him now, along with a healthy dose of shame.
Mary was right.
He’d made excuses. A lot of them. Not only for himself, blaming his appearance for being alone. But also for never coming back to Buckhannon. Being wanted for questioning? It had never really been about that. It had been about facing this place where he’d been made to feel unwanted. Confronting the cause.
How easy it had been to blame his father’s eccentricities for his isolation, the way he’d drifted, never really taking anything seriously. All along, he’d had his own unresolved hang-ups.
When Mary unhooked her seatbelt, Tucker did the same, his movements jerky. There was a heaviness to the