my winter coat and boots, pulling them on with as much haste as I could muster. Mom met me at the front door, wine glass still in hand. She went nowhere without it. “Harley could have the decency to come in.”
“Why would he want to do that? I told him I’d come out.”
“It’s rude.”
I could list a number of things that were rude, including inviting someone to dinner only to expect them to cook and then not bothering to join them when it came time to eat, but I didn’t.
I begrudgingly kissed Mom’s cheek and offered her a strained smile. “Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, sweetie. It was good to see you.”
I paused, blinked, and refrained from commenting, Was it? Instead, I left, closing the door behind me as Mom retreated to her boyfriend and the couch, her pills and wine, and the hockey game she probably wasn’t watching.
With the door closed, I paused and stared at the hard surface, wondering why I bothered each month. I always hoped it would be different. It never was.
Walking away, I felt small and child-like. Hurt. It amazed me she was still capable of drawing out these emotions in me, especially when I worked so hard at steeling my heart. But she was my mom.
When I turned, Dad’s car was running in the driveway. The blizzard hadn’t ceased in the slightest. Dad had gotten out of the car and stood beside the driver’s door, waiting.
For all the shit that had happened between us, that man was still my dad. No matter what, we could put our differences aside when it was necessary. At that moment, it was necessary.
I walked directly into his arms, buried my face against his neck, and let him hold me up for a minute. If anyone understood the muddled feelings I couldn’t explain, it was him.
Chapter Ten
Harley
Edison and I had always had a complicated relationship. Sometimes, I tried too hard to lord over him and force him to do things my way. It was ingrained in my head that a parent enforced rules and made their child mind them at all times. But I had also been nineteen years old when Edison had been born, so what the fuck did I know? I was immature and impressionable in those days and in no position to be a parent. But at least I tried. If there was a wrong way to go about something, that was often the road I took. Not intentionally. Kids, in general, were difficult. My kid had been a holy terror his whole life and had tried my patience more than a million times. He evoked emotions that often made me reactive and not rational.
Edison had not had an easy childhood, and I was well aware I was part of the reason.
However, Shianne was the proud recipient of the Loser Parent of the Year award. If I’d thought she was inattentive and uncaring toward Edison when he was growing up, it was nothing compared to the shit she pulled now. Since we’d parted ways, she’d slid so far downhill that, had Edison been younger, I’d have fought a court battle to keep her away from him.
As it stood, Edison seemed hellbent on trying to develop a relationship with his mother that would never be what he dreamed. I couldn’t tell him that. It was a lesson he had to learn the hard way. All I could do was be there when he needed to fall apart.
Like right now.
The snow whipped and swirled around us, the wind cutting through my jacket, the cold making my nose drip. I squinted against the assault and squeezed Edison to my chest as his body grew heavy in my arms. It was moments like this when he felt small, like a child again and not a twenty-year-old adult who almost matched me in height.
He’d left his hat off, and his blond hair danced around in the wind, tickling my cheek. His ears were turning pink. I kissed his temple and whispered, “Come on. Get in the car. It’s cold.”
He didn’t argue, releasing his hold and staring at the ground as he walked around the vehicle to the passenger side.
I glanced at the front window to Shianne’s townhouse. The blinds were open, the lights inside bright. A TV flickered. Rage twisted in my core, and I wanted to storm inside and give Shianne a piece of my mind. She could hurt me all she wanted, but when she hurt Edison, that pissed me off.
Many times