Page 106 of Fight For Me

“I don’t have doubts.”

“Really? Because it sure as hell sounded to me like you were saying you thought your family would leave if you did something they didn’t approve of.”

I want to argue with her, just like I’d wanted to argue with Alex last night when she made a similar claim. But just like last night, I find myself unable to speak.

She slips off the couch to kneel in front of me, cupping my cheeks in her hands. “You are part of this family, Wyatt.”

“I know that—”

“Do you? Do you know that you’re every bit as much your father’s son as Will or Silas? Do you know your uncles love you as much as any of their nieces or nephews?” She smiles. “Except Rose—let’s be honest.”

I bark out a laugh. Rose has been the favorite since the day she was born. But then my laugh turns into something that sounds like a sob, and I cover my face, desperate not to cry.

The thing is, I do know that my family loves me. My dad, my siblings, my uncles, my mom—all of them. They’ve gone out of their way to show it, to include me, never giving me a reason to doubt their love.

The things is, I can’t always convince myself that love is enough.

“I think I have…abandonment issues or something, Mom.”

She pulls my hands away so she can look into my eyes. There’s a world of pain in her warm brown irises, but she holds my gaze, steady and sure. “I think you do too. And I probably should have made you talk about it years ago.”

“I don’t think I would have been ready to admit it. Not until they died.”

She nods. “But it’s not just losing them. Or losing your biological dad. It’s me, too. It’s what I did.”

I open my mouth to argue, to defend her, the way I always do, but she stops me. “It’s okay, Wyatt. It’s okay to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” I say immediately, and she shakes her head.

“You’ve been defending me since before you were even old enough to understand what happened. And I love you for it—you’re so loyal and kind and understanding, Wyatt.” She cups my cheeks again. “But it’s okay to be mad, too. I can take it.”

I stare at her for a long minute, then blurt out the words before I can talk myself out of it. “I remember sitting in the hallway outside Will’s nursery when he was a baby. Watching you and Dad put him to bed. And I remember thinking that you never did that with me.”

I force myself to look at her face, even though I’m terrified to see that I’m hurting her. I’m always so scared of hurting her.

But she doesn’t look hurt right now. She looks calm, steady. Like she really can take it.

“Alex asked me if I ever felt left out because I was older than my siblings, and I said no…but that wasn’t entirely honest. I used to get somad, sometimes. We’d look at family photo albums or watch home movies, and it was like my brothers and sister had this whole life that I didn’t get to have.”

“That must have been so hard.”

“It wasn’t all hard. You guys were great—”

“Wyatt.” She sounds almost exasperated. “Stop defending me. You’re allowed to tell me these things. I want you to.”

I want to argue with her, to tell her that everything is fine and there’s nothing I would change about my childhood. But I’m so fucking tired. And the events of the last twenty-four hours—watching Alex walk away—it all feels so heavy all of a sudden. I need to let something go or I’m going to get crushed by the weight.

“I used to be so scared that I was going to mess up somehow and you’d send me back to Grandma and Grandpa.”

This time, pain does flicker across her face. “I think you’re still scared of that, Wyatt. You’re still trying to live your life in the way you think will make us happy because you’re scared of losing more than you already have.”

“I’m a coward.”

“No.” A tear slips down her cheek. “You’re so brave. And I am so sorry that I wasn’t the mom you needed when you were born.”

She’s said that to me before. It’s not like this is the first time it’s ever come up, even though I don’t remember ever being so open with her about how I feel about it. Usually I would tell her that it’s fine, that there’s no need to apologize. Today, I don’t say any of that. I just nod, feeling all the regret and sadness weighing down the air between us. “I know you are.”

She takes in a shuddering breath. “Most days I believe that I did the best I could. Most days I can forgive myself. I remember that I was very young and I went through a trauma and the best thing for you was to be with them.” She swallows. “Other days I look at you and your brothers and your sister and I think about how I would do anything for the four of you. I would give anything to make you happy. I’d give mylifefor my kids if that’s what you needed. And on those days, I hate myself so much for not being able to get my shit together for you when you were born.”