Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“This house isn’t my home. It never will be again.” She opened her mouth and Van could tell by the fire in her eyes that she was going to argue with him, so he cut her off before she could. “Come downstairs. Please. We need to talk.”
She sighed, pushed a lock of dyed hair behind her ear, and then followed him down. Van made their plates along with coffee and the two of them sat down together.
“Who have you been with? Jonathan stopped by, so I know it’s not him.”
He frowned. “Does Jonathan stop by often?”
“Yes. He and his wife both check on me. They’ve been…well, they’ve been like family to me.”
And Van hadn’t. But had she been like family to Van?
“Why did you ask me to come, Mom? I’d really like to know.”
“You know why—because your father passed away. He left things to you. Regardless of…of our separation, I think your father was right to do that.”
Did she? Did she really, or did she still not like to disagree with him, even after death?
“You’re still our son.”
He pushed the plate away, unable to eat. “Do you really feel that way? I honestly want to know. Do you really think Van is your son?”
“Van is Maxwell, so yes.” There was emotion in her green eyes, that he couldn’t place. Emotion he hadn’t seen from her before and Van latched onto that. Held it tight.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he told her.
“I don’t want to fight with you, either.”
“How about we pack up a few things together today?”
She nodded. “I can’t believe I’m leaving this house, but I can’t stay. Not without him.”
Van let that go. He waited as his mom finished eating. They went into the study then and began putting books into boxes.
“Have you had any luck finding a place?” he asked as they worked.
“No. Jonathan’s wife is looking but I haven’t fallen in love with any of them.”
“I can help you check out a few places if you want. Just let me know when and I’ll go with you.”
She nodded again and some of the tension in his muscles began to loosen up. Maybe they could do that. Maybe they could somehow find some kind of relationship.
They were mostly quiet but they talked about a few things as they packed—a fundraiser she was helping with. A fire that had burned down the old elementary school a few years back. Apparently, his father donated a large chunk of money toward building the new one.
Van wasn’t surprised about that.
She said she was considering getting a cat, when she got a new place, which did surprise him. He’d always wanted pets growing up but they’d never let him have one. He’d never heard about his mom’s interest in animals.
“Wow…really?” he asked.
“Yes. I always had cats growing up. Your father hated them, but now…now I might get myself a cat.”
The paperweight he held tumbled from his hand. Never in a million years had he thought he’d see the day where his mom would want to do something his father hadn’t liked. Maybe it was silly to take that as a good sign, but Van did.
They worked together, side-by-side for a good couple hours. They even laughed together a few times as well.
For the first time since Van had gotten back to Last Chance, he felt hope where his mom was concerned.
“I think that’s enough for me today,” she said a little while later. “I need to meet with Jonathan’s wife.”
“I can go with you,” Van offered.
She held a book in her hand, and as she moved to put it into a box, a paper tumbled out. No, not a paper, it was a photograph of Van sitting on his father’s lap when he was about four years old.
His mom kneeled and picked it up. She flipped it over and said, “With my boy,” before her hand began to shake.
Van bit back the urge to vomit.
“He was so happy, so incredibly happy when you were born. He was so proud of his son. He’d always wanted a son.” There was a sweet hint of nostalgia in her voice that he wished he could share.
“He wanted the best for you. I know you don’t believe that but he did.”
“He had a funny way of showing it.”
“He wasn’t perfect. You think I don’t know that? But he did his best.”
Was she fucking serious? “Stop making excuses for him. No one is perfect. He was abusive. Can you give me that? Can you say those fucking words to me?” He hit his own chest. “I deserve to hear you admit it.”
“Why do you do this, Max? It was in the past! He wanted to make it up to you. He tried to make it up to you.”
“By trying to give me money and a business? That’s not love. Not to me.” He shook his head.