“No. She left. Because of me.”
Fifteen
Mia tightened her arms around him. He resisted for a moment before he drew her closer. It was a hug meant to heal and comfort.
“I don’t believe that,” she whispered against his neck. “You were a child. You weren’t responsible.”
“I tried to be a good son.”
She leaned back to see his face. “Tell me.”
“When I was a kid, I was really close to my dad. I thought we were happy. After he died, my mom seemed to lose all desire to do anything. My dad had told me that if anything ever happened to him, I needed to take care of her. I tried. I really tried. But nothing I did was ever good enough.”
“Oh, Jackson. That wasn’t your responsibility.”
“Maybe not. But I promised my dad.”
“What happened?” She brushed her cool hand across his face.
“When I was eleven, she remarried.”
“Dylan’s dad.”
“Dylan’s dad,” he agreed. “He was like my dad too. He and I were so close. Looking back, I think Mom was jealous of our relationship. Dylan was born when I was thirteen. It was love at first sight. He was perfect. To make it even better, my stepfather adopted me, so I was really his. For six months, life was great. Then he died in a car accident.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson.”
“My mom…I tried to take care of her, of Dylan. But she’d had enough. She dropped both of us with my stepfather’s dad so she could ‘find herself,’ then she left. We didn’t hear anything for six months. Then she showed up one day. She didn’t want to talk with me or Dylan. She just handed my grandfather papers giving up her parental rights. I chased her down the driveway and asked her why. She said because I’d failed to make her happy.”
“That woman didn’t deserve you.”
The fierce words shocked a laugh out of him. “Maybe not. But children tend to take parents at their word.”
He rested his head against her hair, breathing in her scent. Mia’s scent had always meant something special. It was more than a teenage boy’s excitement. She smelled like home and belonging. Two things he longed for.
He tightened his grip for a moment, then reluctantly let go and stepped away from her.
“Thanks, I needed that.” He brought his hand up to brush a loose lock of dark hair back but stopped himself.
A flicker of something—disappointment?—crossed her face, then was gone. He must have imagined it.
“If I could go back, I’d change how I reacted and the words I said.”
She reached up and placed a finger on his lips, silencing his words. “Hush. Now that you’ve shared what happened, both with your mom and my dad, I understand. Honestly, both of them were horrible. And we were so young.”
“I should have told you?—”
“I was so angry and hurt, I might not have listened.”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “After I talked with my grandfather, I realized I wanted the baby too. It was part of you. For a brief moment, I thought we’d make a family.”
She backed up a few inches and looked into his face. “I’ve forgiven you. Now I think it’s time you forgive yourself.”
He gave her a tight grin. “I’ll try. You might have to remind me though.”
“I can do that.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate you coming with me. It helped. I think we should go. I need to drop my stuff off at my house, and then I’ll go to the hospital.”
“I’ll come with you.” He decided in the moment. “I wanted to tell you something anyway.”