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My mother is worried. She has enough reason to be; I get it.

We’re in her garden, drinking tea. She’s about to launch her inquiry.

“Hayden, there’s a good chance he’ll come off his medication again,” she tells me.

“I know, Mom. But I’m trying to be brave about how I feel about him.”

She smiles and squeezes my hand. “I love how you try to make sense of things.”

“It’s therapy.” I chuckle, trying to lighten the conversation.

“How are you going to keep yourself from worrying every single minute of every single day that you’re going to get a phone call that something terrible happened? Or that you’re going to miss a call or a text? How are you going to take care of you, Hayden?”

“I’ll work on reminding myself that if something bad happens, it won’t be my fault. That I’ll do my best, and Levi will do his best.”

A pause stretches between us. “I’ll do my best, Mom, “I repeat. “But I also know that if Levi isn’t responsible, I owe it to myself to walk away.”

“And would you? Walk away?”

“Yes. But I’ll fight to the end to make it work first.”

“Does he know this?”

“We’ve had a conversation about it.”

She smiles. “I raised a good man.”

“I’ll try. It’s all I can do, right?”

“Yes, son. It’s all you can do. I’m so happy you found Levi, Hayden.” She turns, studying my face with a smile on hers. “Your eyes,” she says. “I saw it the very first time you told me about him. I told you before. They light up when you talk about him.”

I pull her in for a hug. “You’re lying.” I laugh against her hair, knowing she’s right. Then, more seriously, I ask, “You’ll love him too, won’t you?”

“Of course, Hayden.”