Page 211 of Reclaimed
As I drove, I replayed the conversation in my mind. Maybe I should’ve asked Steph to come with me, but I wasn’t sure what I would find at Mom’s. She might be okay, or she might be in really bad shape. I wanted to handle it myself.
At the same time, I felt like I had a new understanding of what he was going through with Sean. He carried the memory of the brother he loved and was desperate to find that person again, just like I was desperate to find the mother I had so many fond memories of.
I parked outside her house. Steeling myself, I walked up to the steps to her porch of her A-frame house.
“Mom?” I tapped my knuckles gently on the door. “Mom, I know you’re in there.”
It was mid-morning, and her car was still parked outside. Tank had texted to say she hadn’t left the house since Striker had dropped her off—and he would know, since Steph had ordered enforcers to keep an eye on her, too.
This wasn’t exactly how I had wanted to spend my day. I would’ve preferred to spend it in bed with Steph, especially with how intense last night was, but of course, nothing could ever be that simple in my life.
Sighing, I tried the doorknob. It was locked, but I knew my mom, and I knew she was prone to locking herself out during her benders. I picked up a flowerpot with a dead mum in it, and just as I expected, found her spare key tucked beneath it.
I glanced over my shoulder. Tank and Rome remained in the driveway. They were here to keep me safe, but were giving me some privacy with my mom. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Mom?”
“Harley? How the hell did you get in here?”
Mom roused into consciousness on the couch. She was a mess in sweatpants and a bathrobe, her hair frizzy and sticking up in places. There were two bottles of wine on the coffee table in front of her, one empty and the other half-full, and the television was on mute.
Disappointment surged in me. What had I expected? The house to be clean? Mom dressed and put-together? Finding her grateful and smiling and proud of me for intervening at the police station?
I should’ve known that was all a pipe dream. I sighed. “What happened to going clean, huh?”
Mom sat up and squinted at me, then rubbed her temples. Her face contorted in pain. “What the hell did you expect? Those dragons just dumped me in here all by myself. And it’s not like I couldleaveafter going out and getting drugged.” She sniffed hard. “I can quit when I want to. I was just using this to help me sleep.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Mom.”
“I’m not bullshitting,” she snapped. “You don’t understand how traumatizing all that was. I was having a normal day, and then suddenly I blacked out and woke up in a jail cell.”
“That doesn’t sound too different from your usual weekends,” I said. “You can’t quit whenever you want, Mom. That much is obvious. You need to go to rehab. For real, this time.”
“How can you be talking about that right now?!” Mom exclaimed. “Your own mother has beendrugged, and you’re saying it’smyfault?”
“That’s not what I’m saying?—”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying!” Mom refilled her stained wineglass and took a gulp. “You just want me out of the way. You’re the one who left Lakeview, and now you want to waltz in here, make it your own, and kick your mother out.”
“I never said?—”
“You’re embarrassed by me. I bet your life would be so much easier if I was locked up in some psychiatric facility. Then all you’d have to worry about is your new dragon boyfriend, and you could leave me to rot.” She took another angry slurp of her wine and stared at me expectantly.
She was expecting me to apologize, to bend over backwards and let her go back to living her life the way she wanted.
That’s how it always went with us. I always gave up. I never let her know what I really thought, because I knew she never listened. She was used to walking all over me, and I had carried that into my other relationships. I always thought I was going to be ignored. It was easier to never say what I wanted at all, rather than ask for it and be denied.
But I wasn’t that sad little girl anymore. I didn’t have to let myself be treated like this.
I sat down on the other end of the couch and turned toward her. She scowled at me before staring down into her wineglass. I didn’t need to be embarrassed by her anymore. She was embarrassed of herownbehavior. She knew she was digging herself deeper into a hole, and she didn’t know how to get out.
I couldn’t save her, but I wasn’t going to roll over, either.
“Mom, I’d never leave you to rot. You know that.”
“Do I?” she huffed.
“And I’m not embarrassed by you. Right now, I’m just frustrated, because you’re lashing out at me.”
Mom didn’t look up. She was still frowning like a petulant child.
