* * *
Vanessa Daugherty opened the door to her studio apartment on the first knock, and her expression—the hope and surprise and happiness displayed there—slammed into Gavin with the force of a dozen lightning bolts. Despite everything else, he didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want her to run back to the bottle after being sober for nearly four years. And that meant he didn’t want her hopes to grow too high before he understood where this conversation might lead.
If, in fact, it led anywhere at all.
So he started off by saying, “One conversation to begin with, that’s all I’m promising. If―if you’re able to handle the possibility of there never being another, I’d like to come in and talk with you. Otherwise, I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m only asking for one conversation,” she said, without as much as a hint of hesitation or doubt. “So yes, Gavin, please come in.”
He forced his legs to move and entered, looking around. The place was small, almost cramped, but clean and nicely—if generically—decorated. Okay, this helped. Knowing she hadn’t been living in a dump while waiting on him helped.
Vanessa gestured toward a pair of chairs in front of a large window, saying, “Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?”
“Nope. Didn’t come here to eat or drink.” And that came out harsh. More so than he’d intended. Softening his voice, he said, “Thank you, though.”
She led the way into the tiny living room and they each took a seat in one of the chairs. A sigh whispered from her, and she clutched her hands together in her lap. “I wasn’t sure you would come. I hoped you would, but I wasn’t sure.”
“I wasn’t sure, either. Until about thirty minutes ago.” Tongue-tied, he darted his eyes away from hers, unsure of who should talk, who should start. Unsure, too, if he felt the need to talk at all, or just wanted to listen. Deciding listening would be easier to begin with, he said, “This is your show, Mom. You came to Steamboat Springs for this conversation.”
“Right. Of course.” She twisted her fingers together nervously. “Now that the moment is here, I don’t know where to begin. Other than to tell you again how sorry I am.”
Now, dammit all, if this conversation turned out to be the same as all of the rest, then this was a waste of his time and energy. Hers, too. “What are you sorry for? Be clear.”
“Everything, Gavin. I’m sorry for everything.”
“That isn’t clear.” He stood. “I believe this was a mistake.”
“No. This is not a mistake.” She inhaled a breath. “I’m sorry I stopped being your mother when your father died. I’m...sorry you were making your own meals when you were five. I’m sorry for sending you to school wearing dirty clothes, because I couldn’t handle basic chores.”
Her voice dipped, weakened, and she curled her fingers into her palms, as if drawing strength. Her words, this action, propelled him to return to his chair. To sit down. To listen.
“I’m...I’m sorry for choosing booze to numb my grief, rather than helping you through yours. I’m sorry you ever had to see me, help me, when I was too drunk to even lift my head. Most of all, though, Gavin,” she said in a rush of tear-soaked syllables, “I’m sorry...so very sorry you were stuck with a mother like me.”
Gavin couldn’t move. Couldn’t do a damn thing but listen. This...yes, this was new. Something different from all of the times before. She hadn’t hid the truth, hadn’t chosen sterile terms to bury her apology in. Hadn’t offered one excuse for her behavior.
And he believed her apologies. Believed her tears were centered in honesty, in the stark reality of what she’d done, who she’d been, for most of his entire life. The heavy weight of emotion crushed in, building behind in his throat, behind his eyes. He swallowed, hard, and blinked just as hard. He wasn’t ready to cry in front of his mother.
More, he wasn’t ready to let down that particular shield just yet. There was more to say, more to learn, more demons to slay.
“I need to know,” he said, pushing the words out, forcing himself to go to this place he’d avoided for so long, “why you couldn’t stay sober, those times you became sober. Need to know why I wasn’t enough for you to want to be healthy.”
Scraping tears from her cheeks with the palms of her hands, she looked him in the eyes. “Because I have a disease. Alcoholism is a disease. And until I could admit—”
“I know this. Know more about alcoholism than I care to, which is why I rarely drink,” he interrupted. Never, in his life, did he want to travel the road his mother had. “I understand that while you were drinking, stopping would be―seem―impossible. But when you were sober, those times you managed to regain custody of me, why drink again then? I just don’t get that.”
“I... Yes, there were those times I found my way to sobriety, but they were never by choice.” The flush of humiliation coated her cheeks. “I would become so ill that I was hospitalized, and when I became sober in those moments, I missed you so much. I so wanted to be with you, and I told myself I could do it. Except...I never could.”
“Why?” he repeated for the gazillionth time.
“Not because of you. Not because I didn’t love you enough.” Vanessa closed her eyes and her tears grew in strength, in volume. “I never loved me enough to make the decision to get help. I had to make that choice in order to stay sober. Until I did, until that decision came from within me and I accepted the truth, the disease owned me.”
Logically, Gavin understood her explanation. A person couldn’t really accomplish much of anything if he or she wasn’t doing so by choice. At least, not as successfully and, no, not long-term. Emotionally, he couldn’t quite accept this as good enough.
In his mind, a child who needs his parent should be the trump card. He should have been his mother’s trump card. He should have been enough for her to want to be healthy, to work at maintaining her sobriety, so she could take care of him.
But okay, she’d answered that question, and she had done so truthfully, without those platitudes he so despised. Whether he could come to terms with that truth remained to be seen. For now, he’d move on. Say the rest of what he’d fought with. “Do you have any idea how miserable most of those foster homes were?”
“No,” she said quietly. “But I can guess. And the fact you grew up in such a way, due to my inabilities, my illness, haunts me. I can’t explain how much I hate what I’ve done to you.”
Unable to sit any longer, Gavin stood and paced the small room. “There was a couple who wanted to adopt me, but couldn’t. Because of you, because you were once again insisting you could stay healthy and care for me. So...the state didn’t allow the adoption. And do you remember how long I was with you that time? Three months. Only three months.”
“I know all of this, Gavin. I know...and—”
“No, you don’t know! This was a good family. I loved them, they loved me. I could have had a normal life...but you wouldn’t let that happen, you wouldn’t let me go so I could have something better. Better than you were able to give. To be.”
“This won’t, and shouldn’t, matter now, but if I could redo that decision, I would let you go. For all the reasons you just said.” Cradling her face in her hands, she breathed in and steadied herself. After a moment, she sat up straight, looked at him. And he saw a woman stripped of her defenses. A woman who was acutely aware of herself, of the damage she’d caused. “You deserved far better. I will always regret my actions in this regard. Always.”
Well, she was wrong. This sentiment, along with the honesty he heard in her voice, did matter. Nope, the past couldn’t be changed...but knowing his mother understood what she had done to him, even if she couldn’t change any of it, mattered. A hell of a lot.
“Okay. That means something. Don’t think it doesn’t,” he said, battling a tide of emotion he wasn’t sure he’d be able t
o hold back much longer. He was done for now. Had heard enough for now. “Thank you for being truthful. For answering my questions.”
His mother’s face was blotchy. Her body still trembled. And her eyes were filled with a deep, unrelenting sadness. He saw something else, though. He saw her love for him.
“Thank you,” she said, “for giving me the opportunity.”
“I... You’re welcome,” he said somewhat gruffly. “Did you get that job at the Beanery?”
“I did. I start next week.”
Well, then. They’d have more time to hash out their history, more time to see if they could have a fresh start, not just in Steamboat Springs, but with each other. If they could, if that were possible, and if they could work toward a healthier relationship, he would...welcome it.
“I’m glad,” he said, admitting the truth. If she could put herself out there for him, for his regard, then he guessed he could do the same for her. For them.
“Are you?” She blinked, emotion welled in her eyes, but she kept the tears at bay. “I’ll see you again? Talk with you again?”
He gave a short nod. “We’ll have to do this slowly, but yes, we’ll see each other again.”
And then, Gavin did something he hadn’t done in over a decade. Maybe longer. He walked to his mother, grasped her hand and pulled her up, and hugged her. Held her tight for a minute. So she would know, even if he couldn’t yet verbalize the emotion, that he still loved her.
When they separated, sadness still clung to her expression. Hope was there, as well. Now, though, he didn’t see that hope as futile. He saw that hope as...a possibility. For the chance at them becoming a real family someday.
After he left, he sat in his truck, allowing himself a few minutes to begin processing the time he’d just spent with his mother. No. The pain of his past hadn’t evaporated with one honest conversation, but the ache felt different. Lighter. Easier to carry.
Good enough. More than he’d expected.
What had disappeared, though, was the hold his past had on today. On tomorrow. On a future with Haley. Of course, he’d have to work darn hard to convince her to forgive him. To give him one more—one final—chance. If she did, he’d never need another.
Because now, he believed.
Chapter Fifteen
“Okay, you bozos. Where are you taking me in such a rush?” Haley asked her brothers—all three of them—from the front seat of Reid’s SUV. They’d shown up at her apartment thirty minutes ago at a ridiculously early hour and had awakened her quickly. Insisted she get dressed. And then, insisted she’d moped long enough and that it was time to leave her apartment.
She’d pointed out that she left her apartment every day, when she walked downstairs to do her job. Funnily enough, they didn’t think that counted. And while they hadn’t seen the extent of her moping just yet—not even close—she didn’t have the heart to argue with them.
Simply speaking, her brothers had taken care of her pretty much nonstop since that crushing afternoon with Gavin. They’d brought her chocolates—lots of chocolates. They’d made her laugh. They’d even watched one sappy romantic comedy after another with her, silently handing her tissues as she cried. And when her tears turned to anger, they’d handled that, too.
Yes, her brothers had been there for her. So if they believed she needed a morning out, she’d give them a morning out. Even if she’d rather eat chocolate and cry.
“You can’t just wake a person up and not tell them where you’re taking them,” she said, trying again. “Not only is that unfair, but it’s weird.”
“It’s a surprise,” Dylan said from the backseat. “No more questions.”
“I’m no longer a huge fan of surprises,” she retorted.
“Ah. I think you’ll like this one,” Reid said from the driver’s seat. “Hope so, anyway.”
She feigned an exasperated sigh, and stared out the window at the darkness. The sky held the slightest, barely there glow. A promise that the sun would rise soon to chase away the shadows of the night. Somehow, this promise relaxed her. Dug in deep and pulled out a strand of hope that maybe this day, unlike each day from the past week, would be different.
Each of those days had been filled with a sickening surety that she would never feel true happiness again. Oh, she expected she’d find her balance at some point, would be able to smile and laugh and carry on. But she’d been wrong before, when she’d thought that loving a man who didn’t love her for the rest of her life would be the worst possible outcome of her relationship with Gavin. That nothing else could possibly compare with such a pain.
This—loving Gavin and believing he loved her, even if he hadn’t said the words—was far worse. Because whatever kept him from sharing his love, from accepting her love, resulted in nothing more than a huge, fat waste, in every way that she could see. Together, they could fight any battle and win. Together, they could be...everything.
Unfortunately, unless he figured that out, this current reality they were stuck in wouldn’t change. And that, in her opinion, made this far worse than if she believed he just didn’t love her.
She sighed again, stared at the road as they drove. It didn’t take long to reach their destination, and when her vision locked on the one and only sign that declared where they were, she frowned. What in heaven’s name were her brothers thinking?
“Really, guys?” she asked, bewildered. “You woke me up at the freaking crack of dawn to take me on a hot-air balloon ride? Who had this idea?”
“We’re not taking you on a hot-air balloon ride,” Cole said, also from the backseat. “Consider us your chauffeurs. And maybe your chaperones, if you’re unhappy with the plan, once you’re told what that plan is. If everything really goes south, we might even become—”
“Talking too much,” Dylan said in a singsong voice. “Way too much.”
“Eh. We’re here. She’s about three minutes from knowing, anyway.”
Reid parked the SUV, unhooked his seat belt and faced her. “We’re going to wait right here, so if you’re unhappy for any reason, all you have to do is come back.”
“What’s going on?” Haley said in a half whisper, believing she knew what might be happening, but too afraid to trust those instincts. In case she was wrong. “Just tell me.”
“Huh-uh. We can’t. We made a promise,” Reid said just as softly. “But listen, all of this is for you, and I...we just want you to be happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.”
“I know this, Reid.” She looked over her shoulder at Cole and Dylan. “I know.”
“Good. Okay, so all you have to do is get out of the car and walk straight toward that building.” Reid leaned over and kissed her forehead. “And we’ll be here for a while.”
With shaking hands and a jittery pulse, she unhooked her seat belt. “Is it Gavin?” she asked, putting her belief into words. “You have to tell me. If I walk out there and he isn’t waiting for me, my heart will break all over again. And I don’t know if I can handle that.”
“Sweetheart,” Reid said calmly. “Go. Just go and find out for yourself.”
So she did, but her entire body trembled as she exited the vehicle, as she walked through the darkness toward the building. God. She so wanted to see Gavin. So wanted him to have decided—without her typical brand of interference—that he wanted to be with her. But she was, in all ways, very much afraid that she’d be let down. That something else was happening here.
She arrived at the building, but the door was locked. Pivoting on her heel to look around, she didn’t see anyone. Her heart thumped even harder, and her legs grew more jellylike. In front of the building was a bench, so she went there and sat down. Breathed.
And tried not to hope too hard.
Then, seemingly from nowhere, there he was. Gavin. The missing piece of her soul. He
rounded the side of the building from the back and sat down next to her. At first, he didn’t speak. She didn’t, either. Just soaked in his presence, the solid, real feel of him beside her, and despite her attempts, her hope started to grow.
“Haley,” he said after a few seconds, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted. “But I don’t know what’s going on here, and my brothers wouldn’t tell me. And, Gavin? You need to know I’m good and peeved with you.”
“I’m glad your brothers didn’t say anything, and, Haley, you have the right to be peeved.” He ran his hand over his jaw, still clean-shaven, and pushed out a short breath. “I don’t deserve anything from you, but I’m hoping you’ll give me the opportunity to say a few words.”
“I’ll listen,” she said. Of course she’d listen. Would never forgive herself if she didn’t. Even so, she tried to remind herself that this—as positive as everything appeared—might not be what she was thinking. “But after I listen, I get to talk, too.”
“I would expect as much,” he said with a fair bit of humor. Nervousness, too. She heard both, clear as day. “I...well, I still don’t rightly know if you can understand, but I know you’ll try. And I figure I owe you an explanation. A real, true, honest explanation.”
“Yes, you do.” Bam, bam, bam went her heart.
“Growing up as I did taught me a whole bunch of lessons I’m only now realizing aren’t completely accurate.” He stopped, as if to gather his thoughts. Then, “I’m not specifically talking about the foster homes, though those are a part of the whole. My mother is also there, in the mix, and her inability to take care of herself. To take care of me when I was a child.”
“I can’t imagine how your life was, Gavin. But I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Nope, none of anything to do with my mother was ever easy. There’s a lot there I wouldn’t mind sharing with you, if we get to the point that sharing makes sense, but for now...well, what I need to say right now, is that due to my experiences, to these lessons I learned, I put up all of these barriers. Shields, I guess. And they got me through, Haley.”
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