Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12)

by Mari Carr

  She’d never asked about his mother—he figured there were very few tenants in the rundown building who didn’t know about her being committed—and he’d never offered any information. Instead, he told her about his job and how he lived above Pat’s Pub.

  “I remember her,” he said, his chest suddenly tight as he wondered how his mother had managed to trick Ms. Johnson into revealing where he lived.

  “Look at you,” she said, her eyes taking him in from head to foot. “You’ve grown to be such a handsome, strong man.” It looked like she wanted to say more but stopped herself, her gaze traveling to his right, then his left.

  Gavin followed the direction of her eyes and realized Oliver and Erin had moved forward and were now flanking him. There was no mistaking their obvious disdain—and perhaps anxiety—as they looked at his mother.

  “I…” His mother hesitated. He knew what she was waiting for, but he’d be damned if he’d introduce his mother to Oliver and Erin.

  Oliver took the choice away from him. “I’m Oliver Collins.”

  “Collins,” his mother murmured. “You’re Sean and Lauren Collins’ son?”

  “And Chad’s,” Oliver added.

  Gavin didn’t miss the slight wince on his mother’s face when Oliver mentioned Chad. She’d made her feelings about homosexuals—she called them “queers”—very clear for years. He’d never come out of the closet to her, even though he’d known he was gay from the time he was old enough to understand the concept.

  “Ollie, this is my mother, Cecilia Hawke.” Gavin swallowed heavily before placing his arm around Erin’s shoulders. “And this is Erin Cafferty.”

  His mother gave Oliver and Erin a nervous smile, probably because neither of them was bothering to hide their true feelings for her. Erin had only seen his scars for the first time a couple nights ago, and as such, her anger toward his mother was still new, still burning hot.

  Although, longevity didn’t seem to help cool things off. After all, Oliver had seen the scars countless times over the past few years, and his rage was just as apparent, just as powerful.

  Gavin turned to Erin. “You’re going to be late,” he murmured, hoping he could convince her and Oliver to leave. This reunion was going to be difficult. He didn’t have a clue what he wanted to say to his mom and trying to figure that out, while also attempting to keep Oliver and Erin calm, was absolutely beyond him at the moment.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered.

  “Erin.” He hoped the two of them were speaking low enough that the traffic on the street would drown out their words, keep his mother from overhearing them.

  “I’m not leaving,” she murmured, her voice tight with anger, determination.

  “Please,” he mouthed.

  Erin studied his face long and hard. She knew him well enough to read his expressions, so there was no doubt she could see how desperate he was to do this on his own. Her face softened and her shoulders slumped. “I’m calling you. In one hour. And you’re picking up the phone.”

  “Okay. I promise.”

  Finally, she nodded, and then without sparing another glance for his mother, she turned and got in her car. He, Oliver, and his mother stepped away from the vehicle as she backed out and left.

  One down, one to go…

  A quick look in Oliver’s direction told Gavin that this one was going to be a hell of a lot harder to convince.

  “Ollie,” he started, but Oliver shook his head.

  “You’re not surprised,” he murmured, but his mother didn’t appear to have heard.

  “Didn’t your foster parents tell you I was out?” his mother asked Gavin. “I called Lauren. She wouldn’t give me your number.”

  “I know,” Gavin said, hating the look of surprise on Oliver’s face. He hadn’t meant to intentionally hide the fact his mother was out of the hospital, but…he’d had a hard enough time coming to grips with it himself. Plus…

  Gavin lifted his hand, gesturing toward the pub. “We’ve been kind of busy.”

  It was a lame excuse, and Oliver called him on it. “Not that busy.”

  Gavin opened his mouth, hoping he could convince Oliver to go back to the pub, but Oliver scowled and muttered, “Save your breath.”

  Oliver wouldn’t be moved. And it suddenly occurred to Gavin he was okay with that. Fifteen-year-old Gavin had lived a solitary life, firm in the belief that the only person he could count on was himself. It had taken Oliver the better part of a decade, but he’d shown Gavin the value of having someone at his back, someone to love and support him.

  He turned toward his mother again, resisting the urge to end the conversation here. At least until he figured out what the hell he wanted to say to her.

  It was clear Erin and Oliver thought he should rant and rave and rail at her for all the pain she’d caused him. He couldn’t blame them for that. All they saw were the scars. They didn’t have the history to go along with it. They’d only seen and heard the bad, which was Gavin’s fault. He hadn’t told them about the other times, when his mom was sober and working and, well…trying. Now that he understood her mental illness, it made it even harder to blame her because he knew she couldn’t control a lot of what she’d done, at least not without medication, which they wouldn’t have been able to afford.

  “Ms. Johnson said you live above the pub.” His mother looked at the burned-out building.

  “We did,” Gavin said. “Until a week or so ago. Obviously, that’s changed.”

  “I can see that. Were you home?”

  Gavin nodded. It had been radio silence between he and his mother for nine years, so the fact they were standing on the street having a somewhat normal conversation was disconcerting.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay. Where are you staying now?”

  Gavin didn’t want to reply to that. “At a friend’s place,” he responded vaguely.

  Her gaze slid to Oliver. “With him?”

  “What do you want?” Gavin asked, refusing to share any details of his personal life with her.

  “I missed you, Gavin,” she said, her voice betraying how close she was to tears. The uncharitable part of him wondered if they were genuine or her attempt at manipulating his emotions.

  He silently hoped she managed to control them. Her crying had been his undoing too many times. She’d wake up the morning after losing her temper, take one look at his cuts, burns, and bruises, and fall apart, crying, hugging him, telling him she was sorry, and swearing she’d never hurt him again.

  Maybe he should have spent some time on Lauren’s psychology couch and asked her what it was about him that made him feel like he had to provide comfort to his abuser in those moments, because that was the part he was struggling with now. He’d hated to see her sad, so he’d forgiven her—time after time—and said he loved her, that it was all okay.

  Oliver remained quiet, but Gavin felt him shifting just a tiny bit closer, letting him know subtly that he was there for him.

  “Mom—” he started, desperate to cut this reunion short. Seeing her, on the heels of losing everything in the fire, and after this weekend with Erin and Oliver, was simply too much. He was on emotion overload.

  She must have heard the dismissal in his voice because she cut him off. “I know I don’t have the right to ask…to…”

  Oliver scoffed. It was quiet, but it was enough to throw his mother off.

  Gavin glanced at his foster brother and shook his head, just once. Oliver frowned, but he remained quiet.

  “What do you want?” Gavin asked again, and the pain that question caused felt a bit like he was pulling a stake from his heart.

  She visibly swallowed, then cleared her throat. “I was hoping to get to know you again. To spend time with you. And…” She glanced at Oliver. “Maybe your foster brother.” He heard the question in her voice. No doubt she’d witnessed he and Oliver both kissing Erin a few minutes ago. “And your girlfriend?”

  Now she was outright fishing. But he wasn’t going
to give her anything. To do so would be opening a door, giving her hope for something he…

  He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated with himself because damn if he wasn’t feeling it. That first horrible spark of hope.

  Hope that she’d changed.

  That this time would be different.

  That she’d finally be a true mother.

  What the fuck?

  Why was all of that still there? He knew better.

  Or…he should know better.

  He felt Oliver’s hand on his lower back. He was shocked that a gentle touch could have such a powerful impact. He stiffened his spine.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Gavin inwardly groaned. It was a shitty response, one that left way too much wiggle room.

  “I understand,” she said. This time, the words were completely broken and tears began to slide down her face.

  Gavin fought to take a breath, even as he felt the walls closing in on him. Oliver’s hand fisted in his shirt, another sign that he was there for him.

  “I know I hurt you. I don’t know why I grabbed that knife.”

  The knife? That was what she remembered as the bad part?

  Gavin waited for some reaction from Oliver, but his foster brother stayed silent.

  “I shouldn’t…have come here. I just…wanted…to tell you…how sorry I am. For all of it. You’re…all I have, Gavin. All I have in the world.” Her words were now coming out in panting breaths, staggered by stuttered sobs.

  He closed his eyes, trying to block out her face, her words. How many times had she told him that before? Reminded him, guilted him, made sure he knew he was her whole world. He was it. The kid in him always fell for it, always let those words excuse her rages because he knew they were true. And because it had made him feel like his life had a purpose. Because to one person, he was the center of the universe.

  When he opened his eyes, he truly let himself see her. Not through the eyes of a kid but as a man.

  “You have family,” he said. Gavin had been surprised to discover he had a grandmother and an aunt—both living in different states—the first time Margie had come to remove him from his mother’s care when he’d been seven years old. He hadn’t met either of them because neither had been willing to take him in. At the time, he’d been furious with them, but after too many years at the hands of a sociopath, he could almost understand why they’d want to keep their distance from Cecilia Hawke. He couldn’t wrap his head around leaving a defenseless child in her care, but he knew enough to understand that even cracking a door open to his mother left a person at risk.

  His mother blinked a few times in surprise. He’d never told her he knew about them.

  “Yes, but…I…they threw me out, they wouldn’t help me—us—they left us alone to survive, Gavin. Never sending money, never offering anything.”

  “Listen—” he started, but once again, she forged on.

  “Please, Gavin. Please! I just want to talk to you. Get to know you again. Maybe dinner? Just one night. That’s all, I swear. One night, and I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want.” Then, because she was a master when it came to pushing all the right buttons, she added, “It’s the holidays. It’s just so hard…this time of year…to be by myself. I’ve missed so many Christmases with you.”

  Gavin studied her face as a million different feelings crashed in on him at once. He glanced over at Oliver, certain his foster brother was busting at the seams, ready to read him the riot act for even considering her request.

  What he saw on his best friend’s face proved Gavin was wrong.

  Oliver gave him a sad smile, slowly shrugging one shoulder that clearly said this was Gavin’s call, and he’d support him no matter what.

  He rubbed his hands together before stuffing them in his pockets, trying to combat how cold he suddenly felt. He wasn’t sure the chill was so much because of the weather or if it was brought on by his anxiety…and a fear he hated admitting to feeling.

  “Fine. One dinner. But that’s all.”

  His mother smiled as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, and Gavin instantly regretted what he’d agreed to. He’d just done what her mother and sister had been smart enough to avoid.

  He’d opened the door a crack.

  When he should have slammed it in her face.

  12

  Erin was pacing in the living room, waiting for Oliver and Gavin to get home. Oliver had texted a few minutes earlier to say they were leaving the pub and that they’d be there soon. She had called Gavin this afternoon, just as she’d said she would, but she’d had to cut the call short when several ambulances arrived, carrying victims from a bad car crash.

  Gavin had assured her he was fine and that they could talk about it all tonight.

  Well, it was tonight. And she was holding him to that.

  She glanced up when she heard the key in the door. Oliver crossed the threshold first, followed by Gavin.

  He gave her a weak smile when he spotted her. No doubt her anxiety was flashing brighter than a damn strobe light.

  “I’m okay, Erin,” he said, striving but failing to convince her.

  She could understand that. “I think I would have freaked out if I’d thought the mother I hadn’t seen in nine years and who was in a psych hospital just showed up, all of a sudden, on my doorstep…” Her words faded away when Gavin and Oliver exchanged a glance, and she realized something she hadn’t before. “Wait. You knew she was out. Didn’t you? That’s why you were so calm.” She’d chalked up his quiet, almost nonexistent reaction to his gentle, typically unshakable nature.

  Gavin nodded. “Aaron told me a few days before the fire. I was going to tell you both, I swear.”

  Erin wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse knowing that Gavin had kept the secret from Oliver as well. She wondered if Gavin would ever be able to fully open himself up to them. Not that she blamed him for playing his cards close to his chest. She’d seen the scars, and while she hadn’t heard the stories, every single one of those puckered or slashed places on his skin told her more than she needed to know. More than she wanted to know.

  Like Oliver, she’d grown up in a huge family, loved by her parents and sisters, adored and doted on by her aunts and uncles and grandparents, and never lonely, thanks to countless cousins to play with.

  For the majority of Gavin’s childhood, it had just been him and…that woman. Even now, Erin was kicking her own ass for walking away this afternoon. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Cecilia Hawke off. Countless horrible words had fought their way to the surface, but one look at Gavin’s face had kept her silent.

  Those words weren’t hers to say.

  They were his.

  Oliver placed a comforting hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “It’s fine, man. I told you. It’s okay.”

  Gavin and Oliver had spent the entire afternoon together and it was obvious they’d done a lot of talking. She was glad they’d managed to come to some sort of understanding, even though she was sorry she hadn’t been there.

  Gavin looked at her and she could tell he was worried she would hold a grudge.

  “I’m not mad, Gavin. Jesus. On top of the news your mom was out, you lost everything you owned to a fire and had sex with a girl for the first time. I think I can cut you some slack.” And then, because she desperately wanted to see him smile, she added, “This time,” with a raised eyebrow that told him he wouldn’t always get an easy bye.

  He gave her something better than a genuine smile. He actually laughed, and the tightness in her chest loosened for the first time since meeting Cecilia.

  “I’ve never told you anything good about her,” Gavin said quietly.

  Erin wanted to say there wasn’t enough good the woman could do to make up for the scars, but she bit her tongue, aware that her anger wouldn’t help Gavin. “So tell us something good,” she said instead.

  Gavin thought for a moment, then said, “We didn’t have a lot of money.
When she was working, it was usually as a waitress, and she put in long hours, trying to make ends meet with her tip money. She was rarely home when I got out of school, so I spent a lot of time at the park playing basketball, until it was time to go home and make dinner for us. I didn’t have my own ball, so I always had to wait for someone to invite me to play with them. On my eleventh birthday, she surprised me with a basketball, even though I knew we couldn’t afford it.” Gavin smiled. “I loved that ball. Even slept with it.”

  Oliver grinned. “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah.” Gavin’s face sobered, and it was clear to Erin they were missing part of the story.

  She tilted her head, studying his face.

  Gavin ran his hand over his jaw and grimaced. “Probably should have come up with another example.”

  Oliver’s expression darkened. “What did she do to the ball?”

  “Woke up one night to her…” Gavin swallowed heavily. “Putting a cigarette out on my back. I jumped out of bed and crossed the room to get away from her. I was getting bigger and faster, so she couldn’t hold me down like she had when I was little. My ball was…” He fell silent.

  “She popped the ball,” Erin said, shaking her head.

  Gavin nodded. “Fuck. What I was trying to explain—even though I did a shit job—was my mom wasn’t always cruel. There were a lot more days when she was sober and lucid than when she was drunk and…” He lifted one shoulder as if he didn’t want to say the word. Finally, he forced it out. “Crazy.”

  “Cruel,” Erin amended.

  Gavin didn’t respond to her correction. “I’m tired,” he said.

  “Tired of what?” Oliver asked.

  Gavin shrugged. “Just tired. Spent most of my childhood fighting to stay with my mom, trying to get away from the foster homes and back to her because I love—loved—her.”

  Erin heard the question in his voice when he tried to change the word love to past tense.

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy too,” he admitted.

  Oliver shook his head. “You’re not crazy.” He placed his hand on Gavin’s back and led him to the couch. The three of them sank down together, she and Oliver flanking Gavin. “Your feelings are yours, Gavin. You can love your mother, you can hate her, you can feel nothing. There’s no right or wrong, bro.”