Page 29

29

JOY

“Hey, Mom.” I carried a small suitcase into my mom’s house that night.

I’d tried to work in my studio that day–I’d forced myself to because I needed to produce a lot of product to make up for the broken pots–but it was hard to see the clay when the tears kept streaming down my cheeks.

And I wasn’t a crier.

I kept telling myself it was foolish to cry over a guy I met a week ago.

Completely absurd.

The fact that he was next door made it even worse. Thankfully the shrubs and some fencing blocked the view as much as my tears.

But my sore breast kept reminding me that it meant so much more than a week of sex. Wes had been serious about me. He believed fate brought us together. That we were meant for each other. That I was “the one.”

And damn if he didn’t feel like the one for me.

Especially with how much my heart ached at giving him up.

I wasn’t going to get in the way of him keeping his daughter, though. I cared way too much about him for that. The thought of Remy going off with that awful woman…

“Joy? What’s going on?”

My mom was in the kitchen, which was a good sign. She was in her work clothes, which meant she’d gotten herself out of bed today and gone into the office.

It really had seemed like her visit with Remy had been a reset of sorts for her. It pulled her out of herself. Kids were like that. You couldn’t wallow in your own misery when a tiny human needed your attention for their very survival.

Remy would do that for Wes. He’d be able to put one foot in front of the other because that four-year-old was a sweet handful. Not that I believed he was going to sink into a fit of depression without me, especially after only a few days.

Although he had looked gutted when I kissed him goodbye. Or maybe it was because his daughter was going to be ripped from him.

Me, on the other hand? I didn’t know how I would go on living next door to the man I loved.

Yes, loved .

It seemed foolish to say that about someone I’d just met, but there was no way my heart could be breaking this badly if I wasn’t madly in love with Wes.

I’d had a fling or two in the past. This wasn’t it.

“Hi,” I said to my mom, dropping the suitcase in the hallway. “I’m going to stay here until my roof gets fixed. Is that okay?”

“Well, of course, honey!” she replied brightly. “It would be great to have you here. But I thought you were staying with Wes?”

My mom scanned my face with interest when she turned to face me.

She was excited for me after meeting Wes and Remy. Hopeful, for the first time in ages.

I was about to dash her dreams.

She wouldn’t be getting an adorable, red-headed step-grandchild, after all.

Maybe I wouldn’t tell her just yet. I was liking this version of her, and I didn’t want to be the reason for her to spiral down.

But her forehead creased in concern as she peered at me. “Something happened, didn’t it? Did you have a fight? He seemed like such a good man. Respectful and all that.”

My shoulders slumped, and tears burned behind my eyes again. I wasn’t going to be able to keep it from her. I couldn’t be cheerful for her tonight. I couldn’t even keep it together for myself.

I sank into a kitchen chair in defeat, sighed, then sniffed. “Not a fight. But we broke up.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would you break up if there wasn’t a fight?”

“He and Remy’s mom are involved in a custody battle, and it’s going to be better for his chances of keeping Remy if I’m not in the picture.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “What? That’s absurd. Having you around just makes his home all the more stable! It’s not like you’re a felon or addict or something.”

I dropped my head into my hands, my elbows resting on the table. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mom.”

I couldn’t talk about it. Not without explaining the whole wolf thing, which was a secret I knew Wes–or anyone else in the pack–didn’t want shared.

Mom sat down beside me and rubbed between my shoulder blades, like she had when I was a kid. “Sweetheart,” her voice was soothing. “I’m so sorry. I could tell you really care about both of them. And I admit, I really liked them too. Remy’s a… well, she reminds me a lot of you. Bright and intelligent. Busy, too.”

Tears dripped into my hands even as I laughed. “I do like both of them,” I said.

She cocked her head. “So, can you help me understand? Did Wes ask you to walk away?”

I shook my head. “No, but his ex doesn’t want me around Remy. She made that very clear. I’m… I’m triggering to her, I guess. It just would be easier for them to sort things out if I wasn’t part of the equation.”

“But you are part of the equation.” My mom’s voice was soft, but firm, setting her hand on top of mine.

“Mom, you’re not helping,” I snapped then immediately regretted it.

My mom stood up and kissed the top of my head. I heard her moving around the kitchen, working on dinner.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my tears and stood to help her.

She put a hand out. “Sit down, sweetheart. I’ve got dinner covered.”

“No, I’d rather be useful.” I set the table and got us two glasses of ice water.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” my mom said after a moment, not looking my way.

It sounded like something Wes would say, which ripped a fresh hole in my chest.

“I know you took on too much responsibility as a young girl, after the divorce,” she continued. “I had such a hard time functioning with the depression. You sacrificed your adolescence for me.”

Wow. That was a heavy admission.

I was stunned by her words as I held the napkins. “No, Mom. We were in it together.”

She turned from the counter to face me. “We shouldn’t have been in it together. I was the grown up. I should have been there for you, and instead, it was the other way around.”

My mom’s words flayed me even more. God, why was she laying this on me right now? I was incapable of healing her wounds for her when I could barely stop the bleeding of my own.

“Joy…you sacrifice yourself for everyone else.” She came over to me, took the napkins and set them on the table. Then she took my hand. “You spend your energy trying to make everyone happy. Cheering people up. Me, especially.”

“So?” I croaked. I really didn’t know why we were discussing my character flaws right now.

She gave my hand a squeeze. “So I want you to be selfish for a change.”

“Mom, now is not the time to be selfish!” I stated firmly. “I told you, I’m triggering to his ex. I need to take myself out of the situation.”

“Well, that may be true,” she said, her voice soft. “But I’m seeing my daughter in tears, which tells me that she’s not happy with the choice she made. I’m just thinking sometimes when we think there’s only two choices, it might be time to look for a third option. I know maybe I’m not the one to say that to you, that I need to say that to myself first. Huh?”

I let out a soft chuff of sad laughter.

“I… I did take your advice and told Clyde I was available for a drink this weekend.” My mom gave me a shy and slightly embarrassed look then went back to the stove and finished cooking the stir-fry.

“What?” I lifted my head. “You did? That’s great. He’s been into you forever, and I’m glad you’re finally giving him a chance. I’m so excited!”

She scooped the food into two bowls and set them on the table.

“I do like him, but I’m scared. I’m willing to try though.”

We sat down, and I picked up my fork and moved the food around, but I was unable to eat. My stomach weighed two tons.

“What would it look like to fight for Wes?” my mom asked softly. I could tell she didn’t want to talk more about her date with Clyde, and I didn’t want to push it. One day at a time with her, even if she was in a streak of good days. So it was my love life–or lack of–that we returned to.

A rope knotted in my stomach. “I can’t.” My voice was full of misery. I felt the weight of a thousand pounds bearing down on my shoulders.

“You don’t know how to make it work. But just keep asking questions. What other possibilities are available besides breaking up with him? You don’t have to answer. I just want you to think about it. Think about a way where you can get what you want, too, for a change.”

I let the tears drip down my face unchecked. Maybe my mom was right. I didn’t know. But I did know that I appreciated my mom’s attempt to help. It was nice to have her mother me for a change. To feel her love and caring. To have her be the one pulling me out of a slump. Or trying to.

“Thanks, Mom.” I stood, leaving my dinner uneaten. “I’m going to go crawl under the covers and have a good cry.”

Old me wouldn’t have allowed herself even that luxury. But part of not self-sacrificing was letting myself feel my feelings.

And right now, all I felt was grief.