Hollow (Heaven Hill Generations #4) - Laramie Briscoe Page 0,50
stronger.”
“I wouldn’t say we’ve come through the other side yet. I still have a lot to make amends for.”
“We spend our whole lives making amends for shit other people think we’ve done, babe. We’re all a work in progress.”
That’s the best way I’ve heard myself described.
A work in progress.
Never done.
Always developing.
“Yeah.” I grin. “I’m a work in progress.”
The door opens and the first person I see is Walker. We run to each other, and even though he’s almost as tall as I am, I drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around him.
“Mom!” he cries.
And I cry too, huge sobs, gulping huge inhales of air as I hold him in my arms. “I’m so sorry,” I keep telling him over and over again. “So sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the wetness of his tears against my shoulder, as I rock him back and forth. “I love you,” he whispers, and it breaks my heart. This kid, so willing to forgive anyone who’s ever hurt him. In a way we’re alike, but I hope to make him different than I am. I hope to give him the tools to be able to separate himself from feeling like he’s to blame.
When he let’s go, I reach up, wiping his tears away.
“I love you, Walker, and I’m sorry you had to deal with everything you did.”
He leans forward. “At least you didn’t promise it would never happen again. Uncle Tyler says that’s important. That people don’t make promises they can’t keep.”
“Uncle Tyler is right.” I hug him again, this time pushing the hair back from his forehead. In the months I’ve been gone, he’s grown up so much. Even if I don’t promise him, I do promise myself. I won’t make my child endure everything I had to endure as a kid.
When I get up off my knees, I’m enveloped in hugs from every side of the room, leaving me with little time to process everything going on, but making me feel more loved than I have in years.
“Are you okay?”
This time it’s my mom asking, although I would say everyone in this room has asked at one time or another since I entered.
“I’m overwhelmed.” I look around in amazement. “I didn’t expect everyone to be here, and I really didn’t expect them to welcome me with opens arms.”
“What? You think because you’ve had a hard time your family doesn’t love you? You know us better than that, Amanda.”
“I know.” I wave at Justice, when she shyly waves at me. “But I’ve been a bitch to Drew and Charity, kicked Dalton out, basically shit on anyone who offered to help. I’ve been a mess.”
“Messes clean up, baby girl. I was once a mess, too. For some reason you and Drew seem to forget most of the shit I put you all through and instead you focus on life after we came here. Don’t get me wrong - I’m thankful. Life before here wasn’t great, but sometimes I think you have a flawed sense of who I am.”
“You’re a woman who worked hard to provide for her kids.”
“I did.” She takes a sip of the tea she holds in her hand. “But I also made a lot of mistakes. I lost our house, got involved with a motorcycle club I’d only heard bad things about- even though it turned out to be the best thing that happened to us-- and there were times when I couldn’t feed you the way you should’ve been fed. Times were tough, and you two never complained.”
“We knew you tried hard.”
“I wanted better for you two, I didn’t want you to struggle like me. But here you are.” She runs her palm down my arm.
“Mom, this isn’t your fault.”
Tears pool in her eyes and she clears her throat loudly. “A part of me feels like I failed you.”
“You didn’t,” I insist. “One of the things I learned is I have to take responsibility for myself. You don’t get to take responsibility for this.”
We both laugh, and I bring her in for a hug.
“You’re going to be fine.”
“I hope so,” I say on a sigh. “It’ll be difficult. If I’ve learned anything, nothing comes easy all the time.”
“No, it sure doesn’t, but if you look around this room, you have so many people who are willing to help you.”
Taking her advice, I look around, noticing my brother and sister are standing next to one another, laughing as they each try to eat cupcakes that are falling apart. I’m