Page 22 of Fractured Destiny

My throat constricts.

“I would tell her she deserved to be protected before she knew how to protect herself.” Mom’s voice is low, steady. Wrecked around the edges. “I would tell her whatever she did to survive is not the whole of who she is and how sorry I am that I didn’t open my eyes to what was happening sooner.”

I can’t look at her. The cup blurs in my hands.

“I should have known because I was there,” she continues. “Not in the rooms. Not with the men or when the drugs were in your body. I knew enough where I should have stopped it. Sometimes I was so afraid of pushing you away, I turned a blind eye. Convinced myself you were an adult.”

Levi fusses, then settles against her shoulder.

“Your father and I failed you,” she admits. “For a long time. Probably from the time you were born.”

My head lifts. Her words are too close to the ones on repeat in my own head. “You didn’t fail me.”

“Noa—”

“No.” My answer comes out sharper than I expect. “You couldn’t know how to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.”

Her mouth trembles. “Since you told me what you’d been through, I’ve found myself hating every person who touched you. Sometimes I hate myself more because I couldn’t make you stop letting them.”

Levi’s mouth opens on a shuddery breath. In one impossible second, he falls asleep. Mom doesn’t notice and keeps bouncing.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

She looks at me over his small body. “I’m sorry too.”

The apology sits between us without needing anything more. Levi’s lashes rest against his cheeks. His fist unfurls against my mother’s sweater.

“You can put him down.” I motion to his bassinet.

She keeps bouncing. “Not yet.”

The pool house is quiet in a way I haven’t been accustomed to since Levi was born. A few minutes later, Levi slumps against her and Mom lowers him down. Stands over him for a second with her back to me. I watch her shoulders rise and fall.

“I won’t ask about his father today.” She turns toward me.

The sentence steals the air from the room. I don’t know what to say because I’m not ready to discuss Lake yet.

“Your dad won’t push you either.” Mom crosses the room and kneels in front of me. “We talked about it.”

Of course they did. I wouldn’t expect anything else.

“Someday, if you want to tell us, we’ll listen. If you want him in Levi’s life, we’ll figure out a way to make it happen. If you don’t, we’ll take all legal precautions to protect him.” She clasps her hands with mine. “For now, all we want is for you to keep going to counseling, do what your sponsor tells you and take care of yourself. I’m here to help. Whatever you need.”

“I don’t want to need you.” A tear rolls down my cheek.

“Noa.”

“I’m sorry.” I look down at our hands. The skin around my thumbnail is raw. I’ve picked at it all afternoon without noticing. There are milk stains on my shirt. I’m a fucking mess.

She cups my cheek. “I haven’t slept through a night since you came home from college. Please need me. I’ll always be here for you.”

A laugh slips out sideways, half sob, half hysteria. I pull away and cover my mouth so I don’t wake my baby. “I’m a disappointment.”

“Never. I love you, baby. Unconditionally.” Her words are simple. Effective.

For the first time in forever, they feel less like an obligatory sentiment and more like a door opening to a new kind of relationship.

Suddenly, my mind drifts elsewhere. To a place I don’t allow it go very often. A startling pair of green eyes stare into my soul as he fills me with his seed. Our connection is so intense, I grab his ass to make sure not a drop spills out.