Page 46 of Lovesick (The Minnesota Mustangs #1)

MENDING brIDGES

MERIT

E ven though the house is the most peaceful it’s been in days, I feel like I’m being force-fed guilt through a tube.

My parents are completely oblivious to the fact that I’ve not only directly disobeyed them but snuck my boyfriend into the house, ran away with him under their watch, proceeded to get freak-nasty with him in a public place, and then crawled back through my window like nothing ever happened.

The lies are piling up. If I don’t come clean now, I’ll lose Crew forever.

I don’t know how I’m going to approach the talk with my father, but I can start by talking with my mother. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. I don’t even have a pre-written speech prepared or anything.

With confidence weaker than paper maché, my belly quivers, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my lunch made an unwanted reappearance. I seek safety in the comfort of Crew’s hoodie—which, yes, I did claim with the girlfriend tax and wore for emotional support.

Walking through my cold and foreboding house on timid feet, there’s an arctic chill ingrained in my sinew—one not entirely blown in from outside, but one that has been here a long time, subterranean, rotting through the floorboards.

I slowly inch toward my mom’s bedroom, trying to use Crew’s scent as aromatherapy before possibly burning the last rickety plank of the rope bridge between mother and daughter.

My fist hovers over the door.

Okay. Here it goes. Gonna drop the Times Square-sized ball. My mother will understand, won’t she? I mean, she is the more lenient parent. Wouldn’t any normal mom be happy that her daughter found someone who makes her feel special?

Crew was never my dirty little secret, and I’m ashamed that my actions made him feel that way.

I can’t always be a people pleaser. I’ve spent my whole life making sure my parents were comfortable—with my decisions, my lifestyle, even my own goddamn health.

I fabricated my life around their standards, and now it’s time that I choose my own happiness.

“Mom?” I creak the partition open.

My mother looks up from her romance novel, a sweater wrapped around her frame and a small smile folding over her timeworn features. “What can I do for you, honey?”

Mentally, I planned on saying something along the lines of, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m dating Crew Calloway…

Dad’s star player. I’m so sorry I kept this from you for so long.

I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was worried about how you’d react.

I don’t know how to tell Dad. I’m scared he won’t accept it,” but that’s not what comes out.

Fear makes my heart hemorrhage, and I curl my fingernails into my palms, blood building underneath keratin.

“Uh, I just wanted your advice on something. My friend…she…she’s seeing this boy her parents don’t approve of.

She wants to come clean, but she’s worried about hurting her parents’ feelings.

She asked me what I thought she should do, and I didn’t know what to say. ”

She closes her book. “Did her parents outrightly state that they don’t approve of him?”

The paper-thin word is macerated between my molars, leaving behind a sulfuric taste that makes me want to hurl. “Yes.”

“And did she still see him anyway?”

“Uh, yes,” I eke out, stiffening.

My mother considers the hypothetical predicament for a few seconds. “Why don’t they approve of him?”

Actually, it’s the father who doesn’t approve of him.

And for no valid reason either. He’s a fun-killing tyrant who wants to keep his daughter underneath his thumb because he believes it’s the right thing to do.

News flash: the right thing to do would be to trust her and come to the realization that he can’t control her for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately, my brazenness is in some sort of fugue state, and anxiety is the only thing needling me toward that radioactive finish line. “They never really gave her a reason aside from his career. He ‘works’ for her father, and I guess they believe that business and pleasure shouldn’t mix.”

“Does this boy treat her right? Does she really like him?”

An equinox of guilt and despair kickstart my heart rate. Guilt for not being truthful with my mom (even now), and despair for realizing that I’ve wasted all this time trying to earn my parents’ approval when the only approval that mattered was Crew’s.

“He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

He treats her like she’s the only girl in the world, and he’s done nothing but be there for her, even when she’s done everything to push him away.

He values her vulnerability just as much as her strength.

He offers her help not because she’s incapable, but because he wants to make her life easier.

From what I’ve heard, she really likes him. A lot.”

A smile rucks up the corners of her lips. “Has she told her parents what you just told me? About how much he means to her?”

If only it was that easy.

Girding myself, I stuff my hands in my pockets. “No. She—she doesn’t want to upset anyone.”

“But what if her parents do understand? What if the only person she ends up upsetting is herself?”

“But what if they don’t? What if she strains the relationship between him and her father? What if she just makes everything worse by being selfish?” I blabber, anguish tossing my belly.

My mom pats the mattress in a voiceless request for me to sit, and when I do, she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. Even after I’ve been horrible to her, there’s still enough love in her heart that I can feel it in her touch, see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice.

It’s taking everything in me not to burst into tears.

“You’re not talking about a friend, are you?”

Fear surfs over me with outstretched talons, nicking my skin—accosting the crudely constructed palisade that’s supposed to keep my soft heart from scarring again.

It’s not like I was doing a great job at posing the hypothetical, but I didn’t expect her to connect the dots so quickly.

As terrified as I am to finally speak the truth, I’m more terrified about returning to an active warzone.

All I want to do is reinstate some kind of normalcy in a house that was destroyed from the inside out.

My buildup of betrayal has already deteriorated our familial values and the brassbound connection we once had.

I never used to keep secrets from my parents.

We existed in this utopia that I no longer have the key to. I feel so lost. I feel so alone.

I can’t keep doing this. I don’t have it in me.

“I fucked up, Mom,” I confess, and it feels like there’s a tar pit waiting inside me to trap my body, slick my bones in sticky asphalt, and preserve every negative emotion so I’m forever stuck in this limbo of misery.

She strokes the side of my face with her hand, understanding nestled in the green wilderness of her eyes. People tell me that I look like my dad. My mother and I could be from two different families, but she’s always been the one who understands me more.

“Is this about Crew?”

A sob spills out from between my teeth. “How did you know?”

“I notice a lot more than you think I do. The way you two looked at each other over dinner, his car being parked across the street on more than one occasion.”

Maybe it’s the leftover high from coming clean, but my power gauge is tipping into the reddest of reds, and the sting in my eyes isn’t a good sign.

“I never wanted to cause any problems.” I sniff, unable to stop a single tear from cascading down my cheek.

My mother uses her thumb to mop up the moisture, looking at me like I’m still her whole world—like I’m still her baby girl.

“You haven’t caused any problems, honey. When you’re ready to tell your dad, he’s going to come around. And just know that I’ll always support you, okay? All I’ve ever wanted for you is to find happiness. Nothing you say or do will ever make me love you any less.”

My temperament is mercurial. I can pretend to be this badass who paves her own future, but deep down, I’m just a scared little girl who wants to make her parents proud. “But Dad won’t come around. He’ll hate me! He’ll hate Crew!”

My dad will never understand. He’d make Crew’s life a living hell, and Crew doesn’t have anyone. My father respects him so much. They have an unbreakable bond that most coaches and players never achieve, and I don’t want to be responsible for ruining that.

“You don’t know that. I know he drew some harsh boundaries that first dinner, but he’s just trying to protect you. Keeping this from him…it isn’t the answer. He’s going to be more hurt that you lied to him than by the fact that you’re seeing his player.”

My mother is right. I’m making things worse by stretching this out. I need to come clean on my own. For myself, for my father, for Crew . If my mom is this understanding, then I’m not giving my dad the benefit of the doubt.

My mouth knots into a frown. “You’re right. And I’m sorry for being so terrible to you these past few weeks.”

“I’m sorry for being so hard on you about partying, Merit. I just…I worry about you so much. I want you to live your life, but I’ll never stop being your mom.”

I fall apart in her arms, sobbing and babbling and making zero sense, but neither my hysteria nor my runny nose deters her. She hugs me for what feels like the first time in forever, siphoning all my pain so that I can sip in a clean, fresh breath of air.

The only other person who silences the noise like this is Crew.

“I’m afraid to tell him, Mom. I care about Crew so much. I care about Dad. It feels like I’m being forced to choose between them.”

She pulls back. “Oh, sweetheart. Your father is hardheaded, but at the end of the day, you’re his whole world.

All he wants is for you to be happy, and he thinks that the only way he can provide that happiness is to protect you from hurting.

But if he knew how torn up you are about this situation, the last thing he’d want to do is make things worse,” she explains, buttering the truth on thick, consoling me when a cry wells in my throat.

I feel as if I’ve been peeled open like the husk of a pomegranate, spilling out my blood-red innards. “I went behind both of your backs. I disobeyed you guys. Why are you being so forgiving?”

“I was young and reckless once. I did a lot worse at your age, trust me. So did your father. I know this seems like the end of the world, but it isn’t.

Everything’s going to work out, and if you need me to talk some sense into your dad, I will.

I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you to tell me the truth. ”

“It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

“I wish it wasn’t. I wish I’d given you the open line of dialogue that you deserved. Your father’s and my intentions were never to scare you into submission. We were just trying to put you in our shoes so you could understand how worried we were.”

My potpourri of thoughts is power-blasted by every repressed emotion that’s been gestating under the surface. There’s a powder line of anticipation trailing to my heart, and a single spark is about to light everything up.

“I can’t believe how selfish I was. It’s not just my life that I have to think about—it’s the impact on both of you if my health were to deteriorate,” I admit, and I wish I could return this pain to sender.

“You’re not selfish for wanting to live your life. We should’ve listened to you instead of giving you a ridiculous ultimatum. It wasn’t productive, it wasn’t fair, and most importantly, we should’ve nipped it in the bud the moment it started to hurt you.”

I didn’t expect my mom to apologize. Honestly, I didn’t expect her to admit that they could’ve handled things better. It feels so good to hear her say that. I feel… lighter .

But she isn’t the one who has a direct relationship with Crew.

God, this guilty sickness never ends. It won’t—not until I extract the root cause of it. It’ll blacken my gums and chew a hole through my enamel. I don’t want to hurt anymore.

Next time , I promise to myself. Next time I see my dad, I’ll talk to him.

But Crew?—

He’ll understand, won’t he?

I wipe my face on the sleeve of Crew’s hoodie. If I’m off-loading every secret, I might as well continue with another one.

“I have something else to tell you: I was with Crew the day we fought. We…we snuck out. I’m so sorry. I left my phone in my bedroom so you couldn’t track my location. I just needed to get away.”

Laughter sweeps over my mother. “Oh, I know.”

I blink woodenly. “What?”

“Honey, there was a gigantic thud in your room. His car was across the street. I may be old, but it doesn’t take much for me to put two and two together.”

Shit. Did I really think that I could get away with hiding a man in my room?

“Why didn’t you stop me?” I exclaim.

“Because you finally found your safe place. I wasn’t about to take that away from you too.”