“Wh—why did they…” I gulped when I couldn’t bring myself to ask why his parents killed themselves. What had been so terrible? They had to know Houston would be the one to find them, but it wasn’t enough to make them stay.
I didn’t want to hate his parents. I wanted to find solace that at least they were no longer in pain, and yet, looking at Houston, seeing his struggle to forgive them, I couldn’t stop the burning smell plaguing my senses.
No.
Houston was the only one who had the right to be angry. Regardless of my feelings for their son, I had no right to judge them. I was only allowed sorrow—for them and Houston.
“I don’t know,” he answered, guessing at the question I was struggling to ask. “I feel like I never knew them at all. I can’t remember them not smiling. Not even once. They were always laughing and finding reasons to sing and dance. Everyone knew them. Everyone. They were contagious. The wild parties they threw were popular in Portland.” Houston shook his head before resting it against my belly. I ran my fingers through his brown hair. “All along, they were just distracting themselves, making sure they were never alone for long, even with each other. They kept themselves surrounded to keep from giving in to the pain, and I’ll never know what caused it. No one will.”
Because Jake and Susan were like so many others, both living and dead. They were the kind who never let anyone see that they were sad. Not until it was too late. Not until they were gone.
“It hasn’t stopped me from trying to figure it out, though,” he admitted after a while. “I wanted to know why so I could understand, but I’ve only been left with fears and assumptions. Had too much happened? Did they lose control and let the bad outweigh the good? They were so young when they had me. Maybe I was the reason their life didn’t turn out how they hoped. Maybe I pushed them to do it.”
I quickly climbed into his lap so that we were eye level and held his face in my hands so that he couldn’t look away. “Houston, no. Your parents chose to leave you with memories of them happy because those were the ones they wanted you to have. They loved you. I wish that it had been enough, but you were the reason they held on as long as they could. I know it like I know the last thing they want is for you to blame yourself.”
I was sucked in by the vortex his gaze created. His eyes were so green, and I wondered if it was because he stored all of his emotions there, hiding them in plain sight. I’ve called him an overbearing brute and controlling asshole, and I was almost sorry for it now that I knew the reason. He didn’t want to end up like his parents. He didn’t want the people he cared about to either. Now Houston would have to figure out a way to overcome that fear, and I was more than ready to help him. I knew Loren and Rich were too.
“You don’t have to forgive them today,” I told him when he seemed to struggle with words, “or even tomorrow. But one day, when you’re ready, I think your parents would like that. I think you would like it too.”
Houston mulled it over for a moment before simply nodding. He was quiet when he fell back on the mattress and took me with him. He held me on his chest and in his arms while I listened to his complicated heart beat. We didn’t speak a word for the rest of the night, and we didn’t leave his room. Eventually, we fell asleep together, missing the dinner his grandmother had no doubt slaved over. Laine, Loren, and Rich must have known because no one had the heart to knock on the door.
Houston was twenty-nine today.
For that reason alone, I was awake before dawn. I was planning to bake his favorite cake with Laine’s help, and I wanted it to be ready and back before he was up.
Birthday cake for breakfast sounded like a good way to start any Sunday.
We’d only been back in Portland for a few days, and it was eerie how quickly I’d adjusted to their surroundings. I wouldn’t dare say that out loud, though, and risk