on the verge of adulthood who wouldn’t be forced to stay at home much longer. She needed to help him figure out what was next and make sure he didn’t end up like their dad.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked as they reached the parking lot, her eyes still turned away from her mother’s grave.
“Every week,” he said with a nod. “I don’t actually study at the library on Wednesdays.”
“You come here?” She looked up at her brother, fighting the tears that wanted to prick the backs of her eyes.
“Well, Mom always liked keeping the house tidy, and I figure she’d feel bad if her grave was messy. I change the flowers and brush all the leaves away.” He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I miss her a lot.”
“I miss her, too, bud.” Audrey squeezed her brother. “I miss her, too.”
…
Ronan dropped onto the small couch in his temporary apartment and raked a hand through his hair. Rich, golden sunlight poured through the windows, tinting everything orange as the sun set outside. It made the small place look more alive—glossing over the fact that the appliances were old and that Ronan hadn’t given any care to decorating the walls or surfaces.
Part of what had stopped him from filling the space with anything personal was his indecision about the future. He’d made no commitment to stay in Kissing Creek beyond his contract…so what was the point of decorating? But for some reason, having Audrey in his space last night had made him suddenly aware of how he was living like a nomad. His place in the UK had looked much the same—bare walls and sterile-looking furniture and a sense that he was going to flee at any moment.
It was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of setting down roots. Or making commitments.
Or opening himself up to anything more than now.
Luckily, work kept him busy enough that he didn’t have to think about it too much. Today, he’d taught two classes, had three hours of “open office” with students, and spent the afternoon going over his mentor’s feedback on another chapter for his book…which basically meant starting that section from scratch. After that, he’d attempted to have a quiet few moments at Kisspresso, only to have some PhD students want to ask him questions.
By the time he’d gotten home, his brain felt like mashed potatoes. Maybe he could stare into space for long enough that he’d reach a respectable amount of time before he could slide into bed.
At that moment, his phone buzzed. His mother was calling him—again. She’d started trying yesterday around noon, and the calls would come through every few hours. But she never left another voicemail. Never texted, either. He’d called his grandmother to make sure she was okay and then followed up with Keira. Both of them were fine. No family emergencies.
After his mother ignored him most of his life, what could possibly be so urgent now?
It was clear she wasn’t going to stop calling until he picked up. Frustrated, Ronan thought very seriously about dropping his phone into the toilet bowl and flushing it. But sticking his head in the sand wasn’t going to accomplish anything.
He swiped his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ro.”
His mother’s soft voice was always a punch to the chest. She sounded the same as he remembered from his childhood—this quiet, almost girlish voice with a faraway quality to it. Everything about her had a dreamlike element, as if she might vanish in a puff of smoke at any moment.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Why do you assume something is wrong?”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I called you a dozen times after I first moved to England and you never got back to me. Not once.
He stood and paced the length of the apartment. “You don’t usually call, so I assumed something had prompted it.”
For a moment, there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line. “Well…that’s precisely why I’m calling. I know I haven’t been attentive.”
Understatement of the last thirty-four years.
“I realized when I saw you at the hospital that maybe I’ve done some damage over the years,” she added. “And it’s time to fix that.”
Maybe she’d done some damage? Maybe? Like there was a chance that abandoning her kids to live on their own before they were even legal might result in the creation of well-adjusted adults. Seriously?