Page 34 of Wish You Were Mine (Kings of Eden Falls #3)
OWEN
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It is a lot.”
Lucy watched me carefully, like she was trying to thread the needle between asking and overstepping. Then, gently, “Has your mom been in prison a long time?”
I gave a slow nod. “Almost ten years.”
Her eyes searched mine, piecing things together. “So…ever since your dad and sister passed?”
“Just after that…” I dragged in a breath, steeling myself. I’d told the story before, but even though almost a decade had passed, my chest somehow still felt like it was splintering open.
I kept my eyes on the table as I spoke. “She was convicted of two counts of vehicular manslaughter. For my dad and my little sister Callie.”
Lucy’s hand stilled on her fork. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.
“She was high at the time,” I said, not waiting for her to fill the silence.
“She’d had an addiction since I was a kid.
Painkillers at first, then other stuff. When I was young, everything looked picture-perfect from the outside—nice house, good schools, plenty of money.
But behind closed doors…” I swallowed hard.
“Behind closed doors my mom was checked out. Sneaking pills.”
Lucy let out a soft breath, eyes wide and sad.
“She overdosed when I was thirteen. That’s when she finally got help. Got clean. Or at least she was clean for a while.” I shook my head. “And things were good again. She was present. Sober. Trying.”
I ran a hand down my face, the old ache stirring again.
“But a few years later, when I was at Yale…she relapsed without any of us knowing. At least…not until it was too late.”
“That must’ve been so hard.” Lucy’s brows pulled together, pain flashing across her face as she whispered, “Watching your mom go through something like that. Feeling like you couldn’t help her. Like you were helpless.”
“Yeah,” I said, my throat tightening. “Exactly that.”
I stared at my plate, not really seeing it anymore.
“There were nights when my dad was on a work trip that I’d just sit by her bed,” I admitted, my voice lower now, rougher, “and watch her sleep. I just…wanted to make sure she was still breathing. I’d sit there and count her breaths and tell myself that if she made it through the night, maybe tomorrow would be better. ”
Lucy didn’t speak. She just let the silence hold what I couldn’t.
“I wasn’t there when it happened,” I added quietly. “The accident. I was in New Haven, at school. Trying to stay on top of classes, praying everything was okay back home. And then one night, it wasn’t.”
The guilt—old and familiar—settled across my shoulders again. “I should’ve known she was slipping,” I murmured. “I should’ve noticed. Visited more. Checked in.”
“But you were a college kid,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Trying to build a future. That wasn’t your job to manage.”
I looked up, and for a second, her gaze locked with mine. There was something in it—compassion, understanding, maybe even something like admiration—that eased the rawest edge of my shame.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed her to say those exact words.
“What happened to your brother after the accident? He was still pretty young, right?” She tilted her head slightly. “Did he go into foster care? Since you were still in college and so young yourself?”
“He was in foster care for a little while.” I sat back, dragging a hand across the back of my neck. “Everything was just…chaotic. But once my mom was sentenced, I applied for guardianship.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Geez.” Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s two years younger than me.”
“I know,” I added with a dry chuckle. “It was insane. But Asher ended up getting a scholarship to Eden Falls Academy—with room and board—which was honestly a lifesaver. I don’t think I could’ve held it all together otherwise.
The teachers and staff were incredible. Theo was actually one of the house dads back then.
And he kept me in the loop when I couldn’t be there myself. ”
Lucy leaned forward slightly. “Do you think that’s why Theo was considering going into family law for a while?”
“I think so,” I said, then smirked. “At least until he realized the big bucks were in corporate law.”
She laughed. “Well, he did have Alisha Vanderbilt to impress. ”
Her voice dipped a little at the end, and I caught the subtle flicker of sadness that crossed her face. Alisha, Theo’s late wife. Another loss from a car accident that neither of us wanted to talk about but couldn’t quite forget.
Our eyes met, and for a second, it felt like the room went still.
Then—quietly, deliberately—Lucy reached across the table and covered my hand with hers.
Comfort wasn’t something I was used to receiving. But in that moment, I let myself take it. Let her hand rest over mine, steady and sure.
We sat like that for a beat. Two people who knew what it was like to lose someone in a blink. Who understood the kind of grief that never fully lets go, no matter how much time passes or how well you learn to carry it.
“Anyway…” I cleared my throat, trying to find my footing again. “Sorry for being a total mood killer. This was supposed to be a lighthearted, party-planning dinner.”
“No, it’s…” She smiled gently. “I appreciate you telling me. I’m sure that’s not easy to talk about.”
“It’s not,” I admitted. “But that’s just…life, I guess.”
“That it is,” she murmured, her eyes dropping for a second. And I wondered, briefly, if she had things tucked away, too. Things that hurt too much to say out loud.
She glanced up again. “How long is your mom’s sentence for?”
“Ten years.”
“So…does that mean she’ll be getting out soon?”
“Yeah.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “I got an update recently. Looks like she’ll be released in August.” I exhaled slowly. “And I honestly don’t know what to do with that.”
She stayed quiet, watching me carefully.
“She’s still my mom. And I love her. Sometimes I even miss her. But I’ve been angry for so long for what she did. What she took from me and Asher. From Callie and Dad. The birthdays we never had. The memories we never made. There’s just this…ache. And it hasn’t gone away.”
I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling exposed.
I was probably saying too much.
Unloading on Lucy when she hadn’t asked for any of this.
But once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop.
“She’s apologized,” I said, my voice quieter now.
“Over and over. Cried. Screamed. Begged. And I know she regrets it—I do. She’s heartbroken, too.
She’ll carry the guilt for the rest of her life.
But now that I’m finally starting to find my footing again—finally breathing again—I don’t know if I have it in me to help her start over. ”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Lucy said, her voice steady.
I looked at her, caught off guard. I hadn’t expected her to say that.
“I know it’s kind of expected,” she went on with a small shrug, “that family drops everything when someone needs them. But if it’s not something you can handle, you shouldn’t feel bad about that.
You’re allowed to protect your peace, too.
You’re only human. And from the sounds of it, you’ve already carried a lot. ”
I met her gaze again, and somehow, her eyes were even softer than before.
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
And in that simple touch, I felt something loosen in my chest. Like she understood. Not just what I was saying, but the weight of it all. Completely.
“I guess I’ve still got several months to figure out what I’m going to do with that,” I said.
“And who knows, maybe my mom can stay with her sister while she figures out her next steps. My aunt Vivian helped Asher out a lot when things got rough his junior year of high school. Maybe she’ll be willing to step in again—fill in the gaps that Asher and I can’t. ”
“Might be worth looking into,” Lucy said. “Even just having a few options to offer your mom could make the transition a little easier on all of you.”
I nodded slowly, my thumb brushing over the side of her hand. “Thanks for being so cool about this. I didn’t really know what to expect when I dropped the whole ‘my mom’s in prison for manslaughter’ thing. But somehow you made it feel easy. Which is probably crazy, since we barely know each other.”
“I’m glad you felt safe sharing it with me,” she said softly. “I know how difficult it is to talk about the hard stuff. I’m not exactly great at it myself.”
And there it was again—that flicker in her eyes. A shadow of something tucked away. Quiet. Private.
The kind of pain you learned to live with but didn’t talk about.
And I couldn’t help wondering…what was Lucy not saying?