“Paige,” she whispered.
“Mom. I can’t keep doing this. I’ve told you for the last time what happened. You can either believe me and we can move on, try to figure things out, and have a relationship, or you can believe Frank. But I’m done fighting with you about this. It hurts too much.”
It was the first time I admitted that out loud. Every time my mother brought this up, she used it as a tool. It was also a painful reminder for over a decade that I was alone and she didn’t stand by me with the one thing that had changed me completely and left me feeling out of control in a world I was desperate to fit in to.
There was a long silence and I knew I was on the brink of either losing my mother or getting her back for good.
“Paiges,” she said, and it sounded like there were tears in her voice. “You need to stop with the lies.”
My chest cracked. She chose him. Like she had all those years ago. I had my answer.
“Goodbye, Mom.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
You okay?” Leo said, walking
into the bedroom. I set the phone down, and nodded.
“Yeah, just a rough phone call.”
“Want to talk about it?”
When I met his gaze, I realized for the first time in a long time that “Yeah . . . I kind of do.”
He held out his hand and I took it. He sat me on the bed, took the spot next to me, and simply waited.
“I, ah . . .”
I didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know what sounded stupid or why Leo would even care about my problems. But when I looked at him, I actually believed he just might.
“I called my mom and it didn’t go well.” He gently rubbed my lower back, silently coaxing me to go on, but being patient all the same. “I told her, for the last time, about my stepdad. What he tried to do.”
I swallowed hard because Leo’s eyes went fierce and I knew they weren’t aimed at me, they were aimed at Frank. And the thought that this big, strong man was upset for me, believed what I said and was angry right there by my side, made me feel protected.
“What did your mother say?”
I glanced at my hands fidgeting in my lap. “She didn’t believe me,” I whispered. When a sharp pang hit dead center of my chest, I frowned. “Why does it hurt?”
I looked down as if to see the cause of the ache, but I knew it wasn’t something that could be seen. It was only felt. The same gnawing slice of pain I’d held on to for ten years.
“I know better. Knew she wouldn’t believe me now because she didn’t back then. But . . .”—I shook my head—“why does it hurt still?”
Leo sighed. “I think because somewhere deep down, you had hope she would one day wake up, realize she was wrong, and stand by you.”
“Hope?” I whispered. “I never had much of it.”
But maybe Leo was right. Maybe in this moment, the last shred I was holding on to regarding my mother had just been extinguished. And it sucked. Bad. For the past ten years, I never felt like I had her in my corner, but now, I didn’t have her at all.
Part of it was freeing. Because I didn’t have to keep trying to convince her anymore. I could let go. I knew the truth. Leo knew the truth and, somehow, that mattered. Made me feel stronger. Like a whole person.
Leo makes me whole.
And I didn’t want to lose him. Didn’t want to be temporary. I wanted to be his. I met his eyes, which were fierce and zeroing right to my soul.
“Do you think it’s stupid to hope?” I asked him.
“Recently, hope is the one thing that has kept me sane.”