Hold on to Hope

Still, I felt like I was getting peeled apart when she started backing away.

Fleeing.

Desperate to find a safe place.

Those locks of wild brown curls all around her face.

Mouth parting in shock as she stared at Everett like she was trying to force it all to make sense.

Then her eyes snapped to mine in a blast of alarm before she turned and was gone.

I wanted to run after her.

Touch her.

But I had to focus on what I’d come back to Gingham Lakes for in the first place.

I forced my attention back on my mother—this woman who would have laid down her life for me—the one who’d protected me and sacrificed and instilled in me what a real man should be.

Failed that, too.

“Evan.” Her mouth moved in a plea, no sound to touch my ears.

Didn’t matter.

I felt her.

My focus locked onto the motion of her lips, carefully watching my mom deal with the idea that I was really there while I tried not to completely lose my shit. No doubt it was the fact I had a kid hooked to my hip that almost knocked her on her ass.

That made two of us.

“Mom.” I forced it up my throat, knowing the word was probably distorted and garbled, though most people could understand me when I spoke aloud.

Everett scratched his fingers into my chin. Without a doubt, this little man felt my anxiety. I had to wonder if he’d been born with a sixth sense.

One that could tap into emotions in a way that wasn’t natural.

Like he’d taken all my amplified senses and multiplied them as his own.

We’d connected in an instant which scared the shit out of me, too. Didn’t have the first clue how to care for him. How to help him. And still, there was nothing I could do but cling to him, anyway.

I shifted him to bring us chest to chest, his little heart beating erratic. Or maybe it was just mine.

“Mom, I need your help.”

That was all it took to send my mom flying across the bakery floor, confusion pouring from her as she ran toward us. Tears streaked down her cheeks, her eyes roving like she was taking in every inch.

She came to a grinding stop a foot away, hands lifted and trembling, like she wanted to wrap me up and didn’t know where to touch.

Like she’d become an outsider.

I hated it.

Hated that I’d put so much distance between us that she no longer knew how to reach me.

Everett pressed one ear against my chest, his head way up high under my chin while he stared out at his grandmother. I splayed my hand over his back, giving him comfort, and I knew it was a sob that was busting from my mother.

Guttural.

Broken.

The way her entire chest swelled and shook, the roll of her throat, the twist of her jaw.

Pain lanced through my spirit.

Regret and remorse and every-fucking-thing I wished I could take back.

“Mom,” I said again.

Frantically, she began to sign.

E-V-A-N. WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHAT IS GOING ON? I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE HERE. YOU’RE HERE.

Her watery gaze turned to Everett, a trembling hand reaching out to trace his chubby cheek. Her mouth was quivering all over the place when she looked up and asked, “Oh God, Evan . . . is this your son?”

It wasn’t much of a question considering he pretty much looked exactly the way I had in my baby pictures. But I knew exactly how she felt.

Shocked.

Hurt.

Dread taking hold at the truth of what that meant.

“Yes,” I told her, admission cracking with a grief I wasn’t expecting.

Everett gave one of his tiny-toothed grins when I said it, and fuck, that feeling I kept fighting was twisting around me again.

I wanted to tuck tail and run.

I wanted to stay.

Wanted to fight.

Protect.

Maybe curl up in a ball like I used to do when I was a kid and pray my mom could make it all okay.

But those days were long since gone and it was time I manned up.

“Oh God,” Mom whimpered and she swayed, and suddenly Jenna was in action, rounding around the counter, rushing for us. Jenna wrapped an arm around Mom’s waist when she looked like she might faint.

Jenna angled her head at me. Pissed. Dazed.

I couldn’t blame her.

“Think it might be a good idea to take this homecoming party into the back, don’t you?” She rushed through the statement so quickly, it was hard to read her lips, but I got the full gist.

I was about to get my ass handed to me.

I gave a tight nod.

Itching to reach out for my mom.

To hug her and do a little of that begging myself. To tell her I was so goddamn sorry. That I hadn’t meant to hurt her. That I’d believed I was doing the right thing for everyone.

I’d been so sick of being a burden.