Page 31 of Lovers Like Us

“I’m an adult,” I remind him for the millionth time. “It was my choice, and it wasn’t fucking easy for me.” I can’t lie to my uncle and say that trustwasn’t a factor. Inherently, I need to trust someone before I can be completely myself with them, and I trusted Farrow. But I also knew him before he was abodyguard.

Ryke digests this.Silent.

“If you’re worried about your daughters or the little kids with security,” I say, “you don’t have to be. The team is professional, and all they want is to keep everyone safe. You all knowthat.”

“I do,” Connor says like Uncle Ryke is beingdumb.

Ryke rolls hiseyes.

My dad watches me, but he stays quiet. I can’t tell where his head is at regarding Farrow, and maybe he’s not evensure.

I feel the need to defend my relationship. “I know you want me to be in an uncomplicated relationship,” I tell my dad. “Some guy or girl I met in a coffee shop or at some damn comic book convention, but that was never going tohappen.”

My dad twists his weddingring.

Isolidify.

Then I try to straighten up, water lapping the ledge of the hottub.

I follow his gaze that drifts down the ridge. Someone bundled in gray faux fur hikes towards the hut, and as my dad relaxes more and more, I know it can only be oneperson.

I climb out of the water. Cold bites every inch of exposed flesh. I shiver and quickly put on my pants, shirt, jacket—the works. I bet they know what I’m about to do. No one protests as I leave and run down the slope, snow past mycalves.

I skid on a patch of ice but keep my balance. Wind slaps my face, and right as I round one corner, I startle the gangly, fur-cladfigure.

“OhmyGod!” she shrieks, wide-eyed, and then catches her breath as she realizes it’s justme.

“Hey, Mom.” I lean down and wrap my arms around her bony shoulders, hugging her tight. “I’msorry.”

“Nonono,” she says rapidly and pushes mychest.

I back up, lungs cemented in mythroat.

Tears just stream down her round cheeks. “Why are you apologizing?” Her voicecracks.

I yelled at you. I hurt you.“Mom—”

“I had a wholeI’m sorryspeech planned.” Her chin quivers. “Iwrongedyou.” She jabs a finger at my heart, but the longer I look into her glassy green eyes, the more fragile she seems—the more my resentment justdepletes.

“I forgiveyou—”

“You can’t,” she cries but hurriedly wipes at hertears.

“I just did.” My chest is on fireagain.

“Well, you shouldn’t.” She hiccups and then lowers her fur hood to shield her splotchy, reddened face from me. “Ihavetogo,” shemutters.

“Mom.” I catch her hand. “I love you, you know that.” With every word, I do more harm than good. I’m fighting for the right thing to say anddo.

She rubs her face with her forearm. “I love you too…I’m so sorry. I’m doing this all wrong again.” She releases her grip, then treks further up the ridge and embraces mydad.

I turn myhead.

Last night, the tour seemed like an okay idea—complicated, fucking risky—but in this moment, I love the wholeconcept.

Because I feel like I should be anywhere buthere.

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