Page 70 of SnowBound

She coughed and looked away when she said, “All along, it’s I who asked him to stay away. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You what?” My eyeballs would pop out of their sockets if I wasn’t careful. “Care to repeat that? You kept my father away from me? On purpose? All this time?”

She huffed a long breath, pleading with her eyes for me to listen. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. Ask me your questions, and I’ll answer them all. It’s about time we have that conversation.”

My insides coiled in knots. I tried to speak, but no words came out. My mother, the one person I loved and respected the most, had lied to me my whole life. She kept the only person I longed for away from me on purpose. This was a freaking joke. How could any of this be real?

“Anderson.” Her voice brought me out of my drowning thoughts. “I wanna explain everything to you. Your brother…well, half-brother…is also a big name on the music scene.”

“I have a brother?”

“Yes. You probably have heard of him. His name is…”

I shook my head with enough velocity to unscrew it from my neck. “No. No, no, no. Stop. It’s too much. I can’t talk to you right now. I just can’t do this with you.” Hot tears prickled the back of my eyes. “I’m out of here. Going back to New York. I need fresh air. Away from you. All my life I thought my father was the villain and you were the victim of his Machiavellian ways. How wrong have I been.”

I kicked my chair back and hurried to my bedroom, shut the door, and started packing all my belongings in the bag I brought with me.

My mother’s broken voice resonated from the other side. “I understand you are mad, Anderson. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me and give me a chance to explain. When you are ready. You’re old enough that we can talk about it. Like adults do. I’m not perfect. Your father isn’t. And you are not either. But he’s a good man, and you’re at that age where you can decide if you want a relationship with him. Please don’t leave.”

Her steps faltered away, and I heard her bedroom door close. With one long exhale, I let go of the breath I was holding in, tears blurring my vision. My shoulders slumped, and I crashed on my bed, feeling played. And defeated.

Minutes later, with one last look around me, I picked up my guitar case and shouldered my duffel bag and made my way outside. Piling my stuff on the backseat of my pickup truck, I decided to drive. I usually flew to and from college. In New York, I would have to find a place to park my vehicle, but right now it was an insignificant detail. The long hours by myself would help calm me down. And hopefully, see the whole thing in a different light.

What a fucking joke.

Three hours later, I was in the parking lot of an empty grocery store in Nashville, spread on the backseat, trying to find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. The night had been long, and I craved the rest. And being here, in this town, I felt closer to the girl I missed a little less each day but who still owned my heart. No matter how crazy or farfetched it sounded.

I had no doubt if she were here, she’d find a way to comfort me. And make it better. Just by gluing a smile to my face with her silly challenges and happy demeanor.

Restless, with my heart crushed by an invisible vise, I tossed and turned for what appeared to be hours. My body was a jittery mess, and my mind refused to turn off. In the dark, I drummed a melody on my jean-clad thighs, unable to fit the lyrics to my current state of being.

On my back, with a folded arm under my head, a balled-up hoodie acting as a pillow, I made myself comfortable and counted my breaths, keeping the thoughts of my parents’ fuck-ups away.

My brain finally shut off, and I surrendered myself to sleep in the early morning light, praying the night had been a nightmare I would wake up from. Or that I could go back in time to December, the last time I was truly happy, and have a do-over.

Do the right things this time around. Or at least do the wrong things the right way.