Page 38 of Under Locke & Key

Oh shit. Fuck. Okay. No. Wait. I never expected them to drive into D.C.

especially not without warning. It’s terrible of me that I still haven’t told them, given it’s been months now, but between the sporadic contact and my aversion to disappointing them .

. . I was content to just let the time slip by and cross that bridge when the time came.

Apparently that time is now.

“So, uh, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

“Are you with someone right now?” I don’t know how she knows. Bryce hasn’t made a sound. Maybe it’s that uncanny sixth sense that mothers seem to have or maybe she’s just going down a mental list of possibilities.

“That’s not what I need to tell you.” Frustration mounts at her changing the subject.

“But you are with someone? In bed with someone?” Of all the things to focus on.

I do the only thing I can think of to steer the conversation back on track: blurt out the truth and wait for the fallout.

“I don’t live or work in D.C. anymore.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end and I’m holding my breath, bracing.

“ What?! ” Her voice is shrill and it’s the worst case scenario. Elizabeth Mackey doesn’t raise her voice like that often. She communicates far better through sighs and disappointment. Anger is a rare beast and one that’s never easily contained before it wreaks havoc.

“Okay, I need you to listen to me for a moment without losing it, please. I know I have no right to ask that of you since I didn’t tell you what was going on and you’re understandably upset. But it was important to me.”

I can hear her huffing and puffing on the other end of the line, likely pacing wherever she’s at.

“Talk,” Mom bites out between her teeth.

“I got passed over for a promotion at Lakin-Cole. Again. And then my new boss sexually harassed me and I just—I couldn’t stay there.

” Despite asking her to keep her cool, I’m the one getting elevated.

“They treated me like crap. Overlooked everything I did. So, I quit and found something else. It’s so fulfilling.

I get to be creative and actually collaborate with the business owner.

I’m getting a stake in the company. It just required me to move to Maryland. ”

“Still software development?” I hate that that’s her question.

Not “Are you doing okay? Are you liking it? Do they treat you well?” Just, “Are you using your degree for its intended purpose?”

“Among other things. It plays a role.”

“What exactly is the role?” Fuck that stupid sixth sense and my mother’s ability to sniff out a partial or untruth from a mile away.

“It’s design. Software and physical.”

“Physical? Rachel, stop beating around the bush and just tell me. You asked me to listen, so speak.”

My agitation is so high I can feel my heartbeat in my head. Bryce is dragging soothing swipes of his thumb along my skin but it’s not enough to combat the panic building. The reason I never wanted to have this conversation in the first place and have avoided it desperately.

“It’s for an escape room. I’m collaborating on and designing an escape room, okay.”

She gives one dry chuckle and my stomach drops.

“You left a six-figure income in Washington D.C. at a company you’ve been at for nearly a decade because of some man ? Slunk off to god knows where in Maryland to lick your wounds, likely taking the first job you could. I thought I raised you better than that.”

Acid eats up my esophagus as she dismisses it all, boils it down to my weakness. My inability to put up with it like I should have been able to.

“I’m putting myself first, Mom. Lakin-Cole didn’t give a damn about me and neither did anyone there. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t get it—would just consider me emotional and weak for leaving, but I’m not.”

“So your solution is to be selfish? Your father and I worked ourselves to the bone at the same company for thirty plus years to pay for you to be great, all the way up to now still paying off your school—to support you when you were starting out, only for you to throw it away.”

My breath gets stuck somewhere between my ribs, chest achingly tight.

“I’m not throwing anything away. Just because I’m not on the path you picked doesn’t mean it’s the wrong thing.

I’m still able to pay my half of the student loans and the rest of my bills.

Besides, no one stays at one company for thirty years any more.

Corporate culture isn’t what it was in the nineties! ”

Bryce’s frown is so severe that a line cuts in between his brows.

I never seen him angry like this before and despite the rage radiating off him at my expense, he moves my hair back with a gentle touch so he can plant a soft kiss on the top of my shoulder.

His hold on me tightens and I can feel the shiver running through him as he tries to balance between supportive and righteously tense.

It’s a study in caring—a juxtaposition that I never knew I needed until now.

“Why can’t you just be happy that I’m happy? Does that mean nothing to you?” My voice has lost its forcefulness, the quiet broken part of me asking what I’ve been afraid to for so long.

“Of course your happiness is important to me. I just don’t want you to make a huge mistake.”

“It’s my mistake to make. Which, for the record, this is not a mistake.

But even if it was, it’s not up to you. I’m a grown woman who can make choices for herself and I have kept myself amiable, and proper, and never stepped a toe out of line because disappointing anyone feels like the worst thing in the world.

But I can’t keep living to appease everyone else.

Including you, Mom.” My voice has risen, emotion leaking through in wobbles and breaks on the words and I hate that I can’t keep myself unaffected, hate knowing that she won’t accept this kind of reaction.

There’s only silence on the other end and I try to picture what this must be like for her but I can’t.

Because I’ve never fought her on something like this before.

I’ve folded every time. The closest was when I insisted on D.C.

both for college and after, but I was able to convince her with the numbers.

Showing her my worth on a piece of paper, to someone’s bottom line.

This. This she won’t understand. Elizabeth Mackey doesn’t do choices driven by emotion.

She’s meticulous and careful. She thinks everything through, all the diverging paths and possibilities.

And I’m included in that. Tucked into the plan she has deemed best, without asking anyone else what they think.

“Well. Sounds like you have it all figured out.” She’s got that tone, the one that lets me know she’s exasperated and about to shut down. “We’ll talk again when you’re less emotional. I can’t discuss things with you when you’re like this.”

The last statement throws me over the edge and my fear and sorrow fall to the wayside as anger surges forth.

“Don’t bother. I’m done hiding my emotions because you’re not willing to accept them.

And done living my life for you like I owe you something.

You adopted me. I didn’t ask for this and I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove to you that it was worth it.

That I was worth it. I can’t do it anymore. ”

I wait. Perched on the edge of uncertainty, and hope, and heartbreak. I wait for her to say the words I’ve aspired to my whole life.

“All I’ve ever done was love you and take care of you. But fine. If that’s how you feel then I’ll leave you to your mistake.”

The call cuts out and I set my phone back onto the side table with a gentleness that belies my current state. Then I hear him against my ear, echoing the words I soothed him with yesterday. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

And I realize that I’m sobbing, shaking against him, my hands freezing despite the summer morning.

I turn in the cradle of his arms and bury my face against his chest. Crying for me now and the little girl I was, and the hole in my chest I’ve had all this time hoping she would fill it if only I was good enough.

“It hurts,” I manage between sobs.

“I know. I’m here.” Bryce envelops me, until the sunlight from the morning isn’t visible and all I can see and feel is him. I love that he’s not trying to fix this. He’s not trash talking my mom or trying to cheer me up with a misplaced joke.

Bryce holds me while I cry, just letting me have this moment, this feeling I’ve been hiding and keeping contained for so long.

When he says “It’s okay,” I know it’s not him trying to convince me that the situation is fine.

He’s giving me permission to fall apart, there to catch me just like he promised, though this was never the way I pictured it happening when I made that statement.

Minutes pass, my crying calming to the occasional catch in my breathing—sticky tears on my face and his chest.

“I got my gunk all over you, I’m sorry.” My nose is stuffy from the force of my crying and he just leans me back to look me in the eye.

Brushing a strand of hair out of my face behind my ear, he wipes away the tear tracks on my cheek. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, you’ve seen the whole gamut of emotion from me.

Scared off yet?” I ask it as jokingly as I can but my chest aches, hoping against hope that I’m not too much for this man.

Because as tentative as things are between us, Bryce has carved himself into me, just the tiniest nick but permanent in how he’s changed me and the way I think.

Six months ago I wouldn’t have dreamed about telling my mom off. Six months ago I’d still been languishing in a thankless job and picking up people in bars. Six months ago I kept myself so compartmentalized that it felt like no one knew me or cared to.