Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4)

Abby nods and stands, wrapping the red throw around her like a protective shield. I watch, the urge to follow her nearly unbearable. I want to curl up next to her on the bed, to hold her in my arms, comfort her, be there for her to lean on. I want to come home to her each night and wake up to her each morning. I want her to be mine.

But until I fix what’s broken inside myself, I’m not worthy of Abby Kessler’s heart.

An hour later, the front door rattles. I jump to my feet and dash to the foyer, worried that bastard Ezra posted bail and came back to finish what he started. When I fling open the door, the small blonde woman on the other side yelps in surprise, key in hand.

Shit.

“Sorry. You must be Mrs. Kessler.” My face burns in embarrassment.

“Call me Joan. You’re Hawke. We should have met a long time ago.”

I step back to let her in. I never thought about it until now, but she’s right. Abby and I dated for over a year, and were friends for much longer before that, and I’ve never met any of her family. Like me, Abby never talked about them much.

Joan extends a hand. We shake briefly before she tugs on my arm and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you so much for being here for Abby.” Her voice cracks and I feel her stifle a sob.

How long has it been since I’ve been hugged by a woman like this? A woman I wasn’t sleeping with? Since before the accident, by my own mother.

I wrap my arms around Abby’s mom and sink into the embrace. It feels so good I allow myself to accept the comfort. She’s soft and warm and motherly against my chest. My eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. Not wanting to get all emotional, I break away and take a step back.

“I’ll get going,” I tell her, shoving my feet into my shoes. “Abby is upstairs, asleep. She was pretty wiped out by everything.”

“Can you stay a minute?”

I glance up from tying my shoelaces and find eyes eerily similar to Abby’s staring at me. How can I say no? Just like with my own parents, I find that I can’t.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to grab a drink. Do you want anything?” Joan heads into the tiny kitchen area and opens the fridge.

“I’m good, thank you.” Nervous, I sit on the couch and drum my fingers on my knee, immediately hissing in pain.

“Wow.” Joan is standing next to me, staring at my swollen, black and blue knuckles. She puts her drink on the coffee table and returns with a couple of ice packs. “Here. These will help.”

“Honestly, I’m okay—”

“Hush. I’m a nurse and a mother. Let me do my job.” Joan smiles and I nod. It seems I’m unable to say no to this woman. She takes my hands and places them palms down on my thighs, then stacks the ice on the back of each one. “Stay like that for twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes! I can’t sit here with Abby’s mom for twenty minutes. I pull my lip ring into my mouth and begin to chew on it.

Joan must know what I’m thinking because she laughs. “I don’t bite, I promise. Actually, I’ve been dying to meet you after everything Abby has told me.” I cringe and Joan laughs again. “It’s mostly good, I promise.”

“Mostly good?” She lifts an eyebrow in my direction and I feel my face heat up again. “Yeah,” I admit. “I haven’t exactly treated your daughter the way she deserves.”

“What? You haven’t done anything wrong that I know of. If anything, Abby is the one holding back any relationship you two might have together.”

Huh? I frown in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Abby is great. More than great, she’s perfect. Patient and kind and loving. I’m the complete fuckup, not her.

“I’m talking about Abby’s need to fix everyone’s problems because of Nick. That’s why she’s a psychologist. I’m sure she told you.” The bewildered expression on my face must give me away. “Oh. She didn’t tell you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I shouldn’t pry Abby’s mom for information, but if I’m ever going to make things work with Abby, I need to know as much as possible. “Who’s Nick?”

Joan’s eyes lose a little bit of their spark and the smile she gives me is forced. “Nick was my son. Abby’s older brother. He committed suicide when he was nineteen.”

Holy fuck. A lot of things suddenly begin to make sense.

Abby