Second Chance Summer (Chance #1)(42)
Author: Emma Hart

He brings his hands up to cup my face, and moves our faces together. “Then it’s a good job you don’t have to anymore, ain’t it?”

My lips curl at the sincerity and rawness in his voice. “I guess so.”

“Are you ready to go back instead? As lovely as it is out here, my ass is numb, and I’d much prefer you in my arms in bed instead. Preferably naked.”

“You really know how to ruin the moment.”

“I’m a guy,” is his only explanation as he stands us up and leads me back to the house. “Wait, you were ready to come back in, weren’t you?”

“Yep.” I lean into him. “I’m ready.”

CHAPTER 13

Momma’s been home.

The empty bottle on the kitchen side tells me that, even if it’s the only indication of her coming back. I grab it and throw it into the trash, the smashing of the glass sadly therapeutic. If I could get away with it, I’d do it to all of them. I’d watch every bit of alcohol drain down the plughole and smash every single damn bottle in this house.

In fact, I might just do that before I leave at the end of the summer.

God. I’m turning into a bitch. I guess the truth will do that to you.

My eyes comb the kitchen for any sign of a note from her. Nothing. What did I expect? A groveling letter? An elaborately handwritten apology?

No, I won’t get anything. I won’t even get a simple apology for the years of lies and deceit. She’s stuck in her alcohol induced world, doing god knows what, god knows where.

And it’s harsh. It’s so, so, harsh, but I don’t even know if I can bring myself to care anymore. I don’t know if I can bring myself to respect her enough to run after her. I can’t spend any longer holding onto a withering hope that she’ll kick the habit, that she’ll be the mom I once knew.

She’ll never be the mom she once was, and I’ll never have the respect for her I once did.

I walk through the house aimlessly, and it hits me just how empty it is. Not actually empty – it’s full of furniture and knick knacks, full of books and food – but there’s no feeling here. With the removal of every photo including Daddy came the removal of memories, of love, and of happiness. The only place those feelings linger are in my bedroom, and that’s only because my heartbroken thirteen year old self rummaged through the trash to get the pictures back.

With the removal of the pictures, the house became little more than an empty shell, void of laughter and all the little things that make life, life.

With the removal of the pictures, my dreams shattered. My ideas of a fairytale romance were torn apart, and my heart was hardened. A wall built itself up around it, and I became the cynical person I was just weeks ago.

And now, staring around the front room, I can see what my life would have been had Reese not pushed on, had he not kept up the chase.

I wouldn’t have been happy. I wouldn’t have been safe or protected, or even alive. I wouldn’t have known what it was like to give yourself over to someone completely and utterly, and I wouldn’t have known what it was like to feel those butterflies in your stomach.

One day, Reese might break my heart. One day, I might find myself in a room like this. I might find myself alone and distraught, sinking into my own vice for comfort, but at least I’ll know what it is to love.

I’ll know what it is to give in to everything and let life take you where you’re meant to be. I’ll know what it is to let my heart take over.

Because, really, all love is, is throwing caution to the wind and holding onto the beautiful feelings that blow back.

~

“You’re back then.” Her words are sharp. Bitter. Hard.

“I could say the same to you.” So are mine.

I look up to the doorway, and her icy eyes look back at me.

“I don’t like that you disappeared without telling anyone where you were goin’.”

“I don’t like that you lied to me for six years and stopped me from seein’ my dad. I guess life is tough like that, huh?”

Her lips thin. “Don’t speak to me like that, Kia James. I did wrong, but I’m still your mama, and you won’t talk to me with that attitude. You’ll use a bit o’ respect.”

I snort and shake my head. “Respect? That’s funny, Momma, comin’ from you. Respect is earned, not given just because of who you are. I have respect for you as my mom, but not as a person. You haven’t done anything to earn that. My respect is better saved for someone who deserves it,” I finish quietly.

I know I probably shouldn’t be saying this. She is my mom, after all, but a painful truth is better than a soothing lie.

And I won’t soothe her with my lies anymore.

“And that gives you the right to disappear without tellin’ anyone where you were goin’?” she asks.

“If you tried hard enough, you probably could have found out. Besides, you ain’t exactly been around the last few days, have you?”

She strolls through the kitchen, her blonde hair swinging over her shoulders, and steps outside to light a cigarette. She drags on the white stick for a few seconds, looking out at the yard as she blows out a stream of curving smoke.

“I been workin’, Kia. Gotta keep you alive, ain’t I?”

I swallow my contempt and let her continue.

“Someone’s gotta, kid. It’s busy down at Denny’s right now, so he’s given me a few extra hours.”

“Or the reason you ain’t at home is because you’re drinkin’ your wages away down at the bar after your shift.” The words I didn’t mean to say out loud slip out, and I clap my hand over my mouth. Shit.

Momma glares at me as she drags on her cigarette again. Her gaze shoots daggers at me, but I hold it. Her silence tells me everything I need to know.

I’m right.

She’s drinking her wages away down at the bar after her shift, a luxury she can afford because Daddy paid the house off outright before he left.

She drops the butt of the cigarette on the porch and stamps it out. Her heels click on the tiled floor as she storms back across the kitchen and upstairs. I sit in silence, apart from the tapping of my fingers against the table.

Ten minutes later, she reappears. Her make-up is fresh, her hair brushed and her clothes changed. She barely glances at me as she opens the drawer with all the bills in and pulls out a large brown envelope and tosses it down on the table in front of me.

“What’s that?”