Page 38 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)
Chapter Twenty-Five
LOGAN
The gaunt-faced lady who haunts my dreams stands in front of me, full of life and color.
Hannah Harper. My mother.
She’s beautiful, and I hate her for it.
I hate her for giving me her eyes. When I look at her, all I see is a sad kid, wondering why his mom didn’t love him enough to stay. Why the fuck is she here? In Nora’s house, clutching to Cali like that’s her kid.
I haven’t seen my mother in years. Shit, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had a conversation with her. The way she says my name seems so foreign, yet I can’t help but cry a little on the inside with how much I missed her.
But, no.
She doesn’t deserve it. She left me when I’d done nothing wrong. No matter how many times I begged for this woman to fight it out and stay because my dad isn’t a bad person. She made damn sure I knew she believed he wasn’t good. But he is good.
He stayed. She didn’t.
“This guy is your son, Hanny?” Cali asks with nothing but amusement in her eyes. Typical pre-teen, eating up the drama unfolding in front of her like it’s a freaking soap opera. I’m far from amused. Even Tia’s gentle touch on my arm does jack shit to keep me calm.
“Yes.” My mom breathes out the words in a rush, as if she can’t believe I’ve appeared out of thin air, disrupting her life.
Yeah, well, same here, lady.
“Hannah, when you said you had a son … you never told me …” Nora stammers, clutching both hands against the kitchen counter, shaking her head in utter disbelief.
“Cali, go back to your room. Adult conversation happening.”
“No way! I’m not missing out on this! I’m not five, Mom. I don’t need earmuffs,” Cali sasses. My mother’s face falls, the same look of frustration I’ve seen her wear many times before. Usually the look she gives before she runs away from her issues.
But I don’t know who the hell she is anymore. Maybe I don’t have a sixth sense for these things anymore.
“Cali. Now,” Nora orders for the second time since we’ve arrived. Cali’s defiance is warranted. I’d also be confused and pissed as fuck if these random people showed up at my house, unloading years of trauma like that’s a normal Sunday afternoon activity.
Cali finally storms off toward her room, taking my appetite with her. The last place I want to be is near my mother—and especially without a buffer. The tension in the room grows thick, and anger grows heavier. And right now, I don’t trust myself to say anything that won’t burn the whole room down.
“I’m sorry, Nora. Thank you for inviting me, but I can’t be here. I don’t know how the hell my mother is in your home and in your life, but this is …” The words clutter and clash in my brain, causing a dull throb at my temples. “This is too much.”
“Logan, wait. Please. Let me explain,” my mother cries out to me, leaning in my direction. I shrug away like she’s diseased, and I feel like an asshole for it.
Tia softly cups my jaw, turning me to face her. I’m trying to hold it together. I look in Tia’s eyes and see the outpouring of sympathy—she hurts for me. I lean into her touch, slowing down my breaths to focus on the pulse in her wrist.
Without a word, Tia pulls me down the hall and around a corner, away from Nora and my mother.
She kisses me with everything she has, clutching my shirt in her hands as if to pull me deeper into her.
The anger dissipates, and I get lost in the kiss, reveling in her taste and the way our mouths move perfectly against each other.
She breaks away first, rolling her forehead over mine. I hold on to her waist with shaky hands, our chests flush and heaving.
“It’s okay, Lo. You’re okay,” she whispers sweetly against my lips.
I’m not much of a crier. I try not to shy away from feeling my emotions.
Dad wanted to put me through therapy after my mom left, but I refused.
In hindsight, I probably should’ve listened to the guy.
Maybe I’d have tools to equip myself for something like this.
Instead, I cling onto the one person who’s holding me to the ground.
With Tia’s body against me, her hands circling my waist, and her lips ghosting over mine, I have my reason for facing the hardest obstacles in my life. I’ll do just about anything to be the man she needs me to be. I’m completely at her mercy. One kiss, and she disarms me in an instant.
“I don’t know if I can talk to her, T.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I trust you’ll do what is right for you. Whatever you choose to do, I’m with you. You want to leave? We can go. You want to stay? I’ll be here long after the conversation is over.”
My heart thrashes against my ribcage at the sound of her voice and the meaning behind her words. I’m downright possessive about the trust Tia has in me. She doesn’t give it freely, but for me, she hands it over with no strings attached.
Fuck, I think I might even love …
“Your call, babe,” she murmurs.
Around the corner, the quiet mumbles of Nora and my mom filter through the air.
My mind is so fucked. How is any of this happening?
And how the hell did Tia and I find ourselves in a tangled web of lies?
For both of our sakes, I need to get to the bottom of this odd connection.
The puzzle pieces are a scattered mess, and I’m determined to put it all together.
“Okay. I’ll talk to her.”
It’s crazy where a day can take you. Twenty-four hours ago, my heart was jackhammering in my chest as I flew over the state of Nevada, and my sights were set on one thing and one thing only.
Tia and I were inevitable from the start, I think. From that moment on the dock, when we forged a bond, the tie between us would never break from that point forward. It’s never led us astray, never far from each other, and never let us down.
Even when our friendship transformed into something greater than anything we could imagine for ourselves, at the core of it all, it’s still us.
At times, it’s felt like us against the world.
Every big moment in my adult life, Tia is the common denominator.
College graduation, we tossed our caps together.
Getting our first job offer, we threw back the shots in celebration.
Hearing the news of her mom’s diagnosis, we held each other until the sun came up.
Now here we are, another hurdle to clear, both of us facing the pain from our past. Another us against the world moment.
Our hands clasp tightly together, anchoring me to the comfort I find in her touch. If Tia wasn’t holding me, I’d be convinced I’m in another dimension.
I told Tia I’d give my mother a chance to talk. Both of us have the same questions, like how is all of this connected? It’s one of those questions you ask yourself—how big is the world in actuality? Out of all the people that could’ve walked through Nora’s front door, it had to be my mother.
The sun beams down, and I feel its heat sizzling against my skin. Once in a while, a cool breeze blows in, brushing against the sweat beads forming on the back of my neck from the heat, or the nerves.
Nora and my mom sit across from us, both with different expressions. Nora looks on with confusion, much like how Tia and I feel. She insisted we take this conversation outside, away from Cali’s curious ears.
It’s not a large backyard, but there’s enough space for the raised deck we’re sitting on in simple lawn chairs and a ton of potted plants.
Much like the inside of Nora’s home, the outside is very much an extension of the jungle she currently has growing in her living room.
Packed dirt and mulch engulf my senses, sending my mind down a spiral of memories of my mom wearing a faded yellow bandana with well-worn overalls, knee deep in the soil and getting lost in an array of flowers.
When the jarring smell of cigarette smoke interrupts my reverie, I’m immediately sobered at the reality of the situation.
I’m not in my mother’s garden back in Oakwood Valley. Instead, I’m in an alternate timeline—the one where my mom made a life with another family.
I watch my mother smoke a cigarette; the tip burning bright fire with each indulgent inhale. She’s never smoked before. At least, I’ve never seen her do it. Not around me.
“A new vice?” I ask, breaking the palpable tension that’s thicker than the smoke she blows into the dry desert air. I don’t like the way the smell sticks to me. She exhales a plume of smoke as her fingers twitch. “More like a ten-year vice. Keeps my nerves in check.”
“Oh, so you’re nervous in front of your own son?” There’s a bite to my tone. Her face flashes with hurt, but it’s gone in a second. Her lips curl into a smirk, shaking her head at me like I’m some petulant kid. So fucking what? I think I have a right to be a little peeved right now.
“Anger doesn’t suit you, baby. You were never an angry kid. You were always so thoughtful. So sweet …” Her voice trails off, as if she’s getting lost in a distant memory. Stubbing the butt of her cigarette out in an ashtray, her matching cocoa gaze locks with mine.
“I don’t know if you remember this, but when you were about five, I tripped over an extension cord in the garage when I went to grab some more paper towels for the kitchen. I fell forward, using my hands to break the fall—sprained the hell out of both wrists.”
Bits and pieces of my memory come back, vaguely remembering my mom with wraps around her wrists. I nod for the sake of her story.
“You found me crying on the floor of the garage. I told you to call your father but instead, you called 911 and told them I was dying,” she laughs, causing the smallest upturn of my lips even if everything in me doesn’t want to react.
Tia looks at me with a bemused expression, twisting her lips as a smile fights to break out. Nora’s eyes stay down cast, picking at the skin around her thumb.