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“And you married Colin instead. Even though he’s not my dad.”

I swallow the ache in my throat. “That’s right.”

“Now that we’re back, do you want to marry Tommy?”

“I can’t.” The backs of my eyes itch, tempting me to reach up and crush them with the heels of my palms to relieve the annoyance.

“Returning to Plainview was about Grandma Bitsy wanting us around more.” And since he asked for honesty, I give it all.

“I think she’s dying, honey, and I don’t even know how long we have left with her.

Which makes this all feel worse because every time we talk, we argue, but when we’re not in the same space, I miss her again.

” I slide the pad of my thumb along his narrow wrist, stroking his silky skin.

It brings us both comfort. “I want to make up and be better for her, but Plainview brings a lot of emotions back to the surface for me. That’s why I cry here more than I did in New York.

It’s why I argue with people. We have ten years of feelings to work through, and sadly,” I breathe out a quiet laugh, “none of us learned how to express our emotions in a healthy way.”

“Will you marry Chris?”

My heart jumps with surprise. Sweet delight. Humor. But I shake my head. “No. I won’t marry him, either. Though, I hope he finds someone nice soon. He deserves a special lady who knows how to bring him peace in a crazy world.”

“He told me that you used to do that for him.” He looks down at our joined hands in consideration, rolling his lips between his teeth.

“He told me how you used to make the world quieter for him because he doesn’t like when it gets too loud.

And you used to scratch his hair, ‘cos he said it felt nice. He said how Tommy got to hug you most of the time, but sometimes, when he was lucky, you would hug him, too.”

I bring my free hand up and swipe beneath my eye. “He told you all this?”

He nods. “When we were playing chess, and you were talking to Tommy on the patio. He said how you were his best friend and when you left, he was really sad. He missed you.”

God. Why did our lives have to go the way they did?

Why did I have to trade such pure, good souls, all so I could have my son?

“I missed him, too. I still miss him. Though it was nice that we got to become friends again tonight, don’t you think?”

“If you marry Tommy, do you think you would cry less?” He drags his hand from mine, but only so he can trail the tip of his finger along my wrist. “I want you to cry less, Mom. And if you marry Tommy, we get to hang out with Chris, too. Which would make him happy.”

“But what would make you happy?” I turn my hand over and trap his wrist between my fingers.

And when I don’t release, I wait for his beautiful eyes to come to mine.

“I made a choice ten years ago, honey. It was a big, scary, grown-up decision I knew would come with consequences. I knew it would hurt some very special, good people. I knew it would destroy some parts of my life but that it would save others.”

“You decided to have me.” His long, dark lashes come down to kiss plump cheeks. “You got pregnant with me, and you knew Tommy would be mad. You picked me.”

“And I don’t regret it.” I unsnap my seatbelt and lean around to be nearer him.

To take his hand between both of mine and pull him forward.

“I can be sad for hurting people I love, and I can mourn for the future I didn’t get to live.

I’m going to miss the boys I left behind because I loved them almost as much as I love you.

We should feel our emotions, baby. It’s how we heal.

But I need you to know there isn’t a single part of me that regrets choosing you.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen in a year.

In five years. I don’t know what that future will look like, or if Tommy or Chris, or even Grandma, will be in it.

But I do know that you and I will be together. ”

He stares into my eyes. Searching. Probing. Processing.

“How’s that for explaining?” I choke out a soft laugh. “I’m not sure I helped since I don’t have answers for what’s coming. I just know what came and the choices I made that got us here. Most of all, I know I love you, very, very much.”

“I think…” He draws a long breath, then exhales, so I feel it on our joined hands. “I think that Tommy is a bad chess player.”

I burst out with the kind of laughter that feels cathartic on my soul. Bubbling giggles I haven’t experienced in too long.

“I think Chris is way better,” he continues. “And I like that he told me the truth when I asked about you and him. I think Chris is a lot like me, and Tommy is a bit more like you.”

“Like me? Really?” Surprise is like a warm caress in the dark. A soft blanket laid across my chest. “I guess I considered us opposites most of the time.”

“You take care of me the way Tommy takes care of Chris.”

“You think?”

His lips wrinkle into sweet lines. “He said after you left, Tommy took care of him most of all. He said the world was really loud, and everything felt hard, and he said Tommy was the loudest of them all. But when Chris needed help, Tommy was able to find the quiet again. Then they opened the gym and got to beat people up without going to jail.”

I snort, even as fresh tears slide onto my cheeks. “That tracks. Trust them Watkins boys to find a way to legalize Tommy’s temper.”

“I think…” He inhales, filling his chest and expanding his stomach. Then he exhales again and holds my eyes. “I think… I’m glad you picked me, even though it was scary. And I still feel sad that you couldn’t pick Tommy.”

“Honey—”

“I can feel both. And you said I should feel my feelings. It makes me sad when you’re sad. But I’m also glad you picked me.” His sweet jaw quivers. “I wouldn’t want someone else to be my mom.”

“Thank you, baby.” I lean closer and press a kiss on his wrist. “I wouldn’t give you up for anything.” Evidently. Not even Tommy Watkins. “We should go inside, don’t you think? It’s, like, eight-oh-nine now.”

He snickers and drags his hand from mine, collecting his things and scooting along the seat to open his door.

So I turn and climb out my side, that familiar ache, my constant companion, plaguing the base of my stomach, but as my son comes around to stand on my left and drapes his arm across my back, I find the peace he brings simply by existing.

He does for me what I do for him.

We find quiet in the chaos, and comfort in the uncomfortable.

“Do you want extra dessert?” I close the door and comb my fingers through his hair, hip-bumping him to the side and grinning when he glances up. “We could be a bit sneaky and take ice cream up to bed. Grandma Bitsy doesn’t have to know.”

He giggles as we cross the lawn and traverse the porch steps, shaking his head when I pull the wire door open. “She would know. She knows everything that happens inside her house.”

“Not everything .” I slide a key into the wooden door, twisting until the locks tumble open and the lights from inside spill out onto the porch. “I used to do all sorts of crazy stuff when I was only a little bit older than you are now. She had no clue.”

His eyes glitter with mischief. “What kind of stuff?”

“The kind that I’m absolutely not telling you about until you’re already twenty-one.” I push the door open and step inside, only to catch sight of my mom’s too-thin body splayed on the floor.

My breath explodes, and my heart squeezes. “Mom!?”

I dash across the kitchen and skid to my knees, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her my way. “Mom?” A line of blood trickles from her brow. “Hey! Wake up.”

“Mommy?”

“Call an ambulance, honey.” I toss my phone and place two fingers against my mom’s neck, right where they taught us in school. She’s too cold. Too gray. Too sick. “Mom? Wake up.”