Page 69 of Too Far

“Which is?” I whisper.

“That I love you. That I’m in love with you. That I share you with my best friends, and that we’re all happier than we’ve ever been. Ever.” With that, he releases my neck and brings that one hand to the base of my spine again.

I blow out a breath and will my heart rate to even out. His words are the reminder I need.

His hold, his touch, his love? It’s always been a cocoon of safety against the torrential storm of intrusive thoughts and overwhelm.

Clearing the lump of emotion from my throat, I step in closer, prepared to tell him that I love him, too.

But before I can reply, the front door swings open.

“There you are!” Mrs. Walsh’s smile is bright. “I thought I saw the car pull up. Come in, come in!” She ushers us inside, giving Kylian space as he removes his jacket and takes mine as well.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She clasps her hands at her chest and grins. She’s practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking from Kylian to me, then back again.

She’s holding back, I realize, as I watch her wring her hands and shift from hip to hip.

She’s keeping her distance, honoring the space she knows her son requires, but it looks like she just might burst with excitement if someone doesn’t hug her.

I take it upon myself to lean forward, arms wide.

“Oh, Jo,” she murmurs, wrapping me up in the tightest, most sincere embrace. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispers, smoothing over my hair with one hand.

The tender, affectionate gesture incites a swell of emotion inside me. It’s so unexpected and so genuine. I have to take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay.

“Mom.”

Mrs. Walsh pulls back, keeping her hands on my shoulders as she holds me at arm’s length. Her bright blue eyes are so similar to Kylian’s. Except right now they’re filled with unshed tears.

“Mom,” Kylian repeats, clearly annoyed with her gushing.

“Oh, leave me alone,” she counters with a lighthearted laugh. “It’s not often someone actually wants to hug me,” she quips.

Kylian takes the comment in stride. “Nicky hugs you every time he sees you.”

“True,” she admits. “How is he?” she asks, softer. “I invited him, but he said he hasn’t been feeling well.”

I nod, choosing my words carefully to avoid walking into the line of questioning Kylian assured me wouldn’t come up tonight.

“He’s had more bad days than good lately.”

She studies me, her lips pressed together, and I hold my breath, trying in earnest to hide the truth of just how much it hurts me when Nicky’s in pain.

Understanding washes over her features, and her smile softens slowly.

It’s then I realize maybe I don’t have anything to hide at all. At least not from her. She cares about Nicky, too. Loves him like a son. That love, though, doesn’t mean she cares for her biological child any less.

Maybe the concept of loving them both isn’t that outlandish after all.

“I’ll send you home with food for him.” She nods her head once, resolute. “Oh, where are my manners? Come in! Come in!” The smile is back. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”

She turns and heads toward the kitchen, and I follow, but Kylian catches me by the belt loop before I make it more than three steps.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my ear, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

When we arrived, he didn’t hug his mom. Based on their exchange, it seemed like she didn’t expect him to.

Yet Kylian lavishes physical affection on me generously and frequently. He knows I love it, and he knows that the reassurance and reminders help keep my anxiety at bay.