Her mouth was quivering all over the place when she looked up and asked, “Oh God, Evan . . . is this your son?”
It wasn’t much of a question considering he pretty much looked exactly the way I had in my baby pictures. But I knew exactly how she felt.
Shocked.
Hurt.
Dread taking hold at the truth of what that meant.
“Yes,” I told her, admission cracking with a grief I wasn’t expecting.
Everett gave one of his tiny-toothed grins when I said it, and fuck, that feeling I kept fighting was twisting around me again.
I wanted to tuck tail and run.
I wanted to stay.
Wanted to fight.
Protect.
Maybe curl up in a ball like I used to do when I was a kid and pray my mom could make it all okay.
But those days were long since gone and it was time I manned up.
“Oh God,” Mom whimpered and she swayed, and suddenly Jenna was in action, rounding around the counter, rushing for us. Jenna wrapped an arm around Mom’s waist when she looked like she might faint.
Jenna angled her head at me. Pissed. Dazed.
I couldn’t blame her.
“Think it might be a good idea to take this homecoming party into the back, don’t you?” She rushed through the statement so quickly, it was hard to read her lips, but I got the full gist.
I was about to get my ass handed to me.
I gave a tight nod.
Itching to reach out for my mom.
To hug her and do a little of that begging myself. To tell her I was so goddamn sorry. That I hadn’t meant to hurt her. That I’d believed I was doing the right thing for everyone.
I’d been so sick of being a burden.
Of their lives revolving around mine.
Waiting for the day it would end.
Once I’d started the spiral of hopelessness, I didn’t know how to get out of it.
Climbing out of it now was the only choice I had left.
I gave an apologetic glance to the customers who were standing there gaping, unwilling parties witnessing this shitshow going down.
Jenna led my mom to the back, and I followed, knocked in the guts again when I stepped into the kitchen and found Carly floundering in through the back door.
Flustered and rushing and attention darting all over the place.
If I had to put down money, she’d just chased Frankie out.
When she saw me, a tear burst from her eye, and she was shaking her head through the disturbance, looking between me and Everett like she didn’t recognize me, either.
Apparently, we were making quite the entrance.
Welcome to the family, Everett.
But I knew them well enough to know they would welcome him. Do anything for him. Protect him and keep him, which was exactly why I was there.
As soon as we got into the kitchen, Mom whirled on me, her nails scratching at her chest. “You broke my heart, Evan.”
Her words scraped my skin. Hit me like a blow. No, they made no impact on my ears, but fuck, I felt them all the way to my soul.
Shame slammed me. “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
I hugged Everett a little tighter because the last thing I wanted was for him to be in the line of fire.
None of this was his fault.
It was mine.
She blinked frantically. “You didn’t want to hurt me? God, Evan . . . you destroyed me. I . . . I . . . I haven’t slept a full night in three years. Three years, Evan. Because the only thing I’ve been able to do was worry about you. Wonder if you were safe or sick. Happy or alone. If you were alive.”
She clutched her chest again on the last like the thought made her physically ill.
“And now you show up here with a child? A child who looks like he’s at least a year and a half old? How could you do this to me? How?”
There’s a thing about growing up the disabled kid.
People watched you like you were different.
Treated you like you were different.
With too much care or with outright disdain.
Fawned over you, made concessions, or treated you like you were dirt, unworthy to breathe the air.
I’d been called both special and a pussy a thousand times.
Thing was, the only times I’d ever cried in my entire life was over this woman.
When she was in pain. When she walked in fear.
When I’d been a little boy, and the only thing I’d wanted was to be able to protect her