Page 126 of Run
“I’m sorry,” Mom rushes out. “But Axel had just attacked both of you and we were scared and—”
“Dad knew, too?”
“We just wanted you safe.” Mom takes a deep breath and looks between the two of us again. “But I see now that we should have sought to keep both of you safe. And we failed you.” Mom settles her eyes on Ari and reaches for her hands, but I pull her out of reach.
“No.” I turn to drag Ari out of the kitchen—and out of the house. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
“No.” The protest comes from Ari, who gives a quick jerk of her hand and pulls it from my grasp.
I turn and look at her. “What? Ari, I’m not going to sit here and let my mom make excuses for all the time and heartbreak she cost us. Let’s go.”
I reach for her hand again, but she takes a step back and crosses her arms over her chest. “Ethan, I’m not leaving here like this.”
“It’s OK,” Mom says sadly. “I understand.”
“No,” Ari says again.
“Yes,” I grit out. “Let’s go.” I extend my hand toward Ari, but she just looks at it.
She takes a deep breath, glaring at me. “Did it ever occur to you that I just might have something I’d like to say to your mother?”
Shocked, I drop my hand. “Actually, it didn’t. But, please, by all means, let her have it.” Now I cross my arms over my chest, and stand with my legs wide, glaring down my nose at my mother.
Ari turns to face her. “Connie. You listen to me.” She pauses, and my eyebrows shoot up at her assertiveness. My mom looks at her feet, and then back up at Ari. “Don’t you ever apologize for protecting your son.”
Mom draws her head back in shock, and I squint at Ari as she takes three steps over to Mom and takes her hands. “I always wished I had parents that would protect me the way you protected Ethan.”
Mom’s lower lip trembles. “But we should have looked out for you, too, sweetheart. Just because you weren’t our daughter doesn’t mean you weren’t our responsibility. We were adults. You were just a kid. We knew what was happening.”
Ari shakes her head. “No. You had to put your son first. And after Axel hurt him”—Ari looks over at me, then back at Mom—“I’m glad you did.”
My mom pulls her in for a hug, and I throw my hands up in the air. “That’s it?” Ari turns her head, still wrapped in my mom’s arms, and frowns at me. “You’re just going to forgive her? Just like that?”
Ari nods. “Yep.”
“After she forced me to move away, and I didn’t see you for, like, seven years?”
“You mean after you completed a stint with the Army and had college paid for? And ended up with a nice little nut to buy a house and the skills to land a good job?”
My mom releases Air, then smiles and points at her. “Oh, she’s good.”
“If she hadn’t torn us apart, we could be married with a dozen babies by now!” I spread my arms wide.
“Uh, let me just stop you right there, cowboy.” Ari holds a finger up, and my mom stifles a laugh. “A dozen?”
I hike my shoulders. “I like kids.”
We all fall silent for a beat before my mom claps her hands together. “Well, this spaghetti and meatballs isn’t going to disappear on its own.”
“I’m starved.” Ari heads to the table and pulls out a chair.
“Are, um … are you guys still staying?” Mom looks between me and Ari.
“I am,” Ari answers, plopping down and placing her napkin on her lap. She hooks a thumb in my direction. “I don’t know about his big lug, but I’m sure he’ll at least take a doggie bag.”
Exasperated, I walk over and take a seat next to Ari, spreading my own napkin over my lap. “You’re really OK with this?”
She looks into my eyes. “Just promise me you’ll be as forgiving with me if I ever disappoint you in the future.”
