AUBREY

Straddling a line?Worrying my pretty little head?

That was how Rye saw me? Like I was that tired, old woman again, trying to be a mom to my boys, trying to be a perfect wife to my dead husband, a good friend, business owner, community member, and Rye’s girlfriend all at the same time.

I knew he was right.

It had come time for me to believe, to be bold, to put my foot down on one side of the line and declare my intentions. I needed to stop worrying about what everyone thought of me. The only opinion that mattered should have been my own.

Before I married Tommy, Ihadbeen the strong, wild girl Rye kept telling me I could be again, and the world had seemed so much bigger to me back then.

To Micah and Benji, I’d always only been their mom. It felt weird still to think of myself as anything else, but Rye was also right that they could handle us being together if I showed them he was who I wanted.

Who Ineeded.

And it would do them good to see me treated so preciously. That was a lesson still left they needed to learn. If you loved someone, you didn’t walk all over them or possess them like anold trophy in a corner collecting dust; you let them fly and soar and succeed. You cheered them on while they did it, and that was the way to show your love.

“Ma?” Micah said softly, taking the cushion at the opposite end of the couch in the living room, watching me carefully as he stretched his long, skinny legs out in front of him. He’d worn Batman socks, of all things, and seeing them on his big feet brought back so many memories of when those feet were smaller than my hand.

Sipping my coffee, I thought about what I wanted to say to him.

His brother would get over it quickly. That had always been Benji’s way—quick to accuse, but also quick to forgive. He was an enigma; he’d always had some innate ability to just accept hard things. Some days I found myself wishing I could be more like him.

Micah was the opposite; he learned quickly, but he took a long time to accept new things or people. Tommy’s death hit him the hardest. I’d known losing my husband was a possibility when he enlisted, but I supported him. I always had, no matter the thing he wanted to do. Why couldn’t he have done the same for me?

“Yeah?” I said, finally focusing on Micah’s handsome face.

It still surprised me when I found Tommy’s features in the boys’, but the older they got, the easier he was to see in them. It killed me that he couldn’t be here to see himself reflected back through them. But I was there, too, in their brown eyes and the way they saw the world, like it was something to be discovered and mastered.

Micah sighed heavily. “Izzy dumped me.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, setting my mug on the coffee table. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“No. I think… I think I love her.”

Whoa. We’re already talking about love? Wait—doesn’t that make you a hypocrite? You’ve only been with Ryder a few weeks, and you’re in love with him.

“Did you have a fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“Not really, but she says I have to. I told her about your…boyfriendand about how sad you’ve been without him, and she said I was bein’ a dick.”

“She did? You knew I was sad?”

He nodded miserably. “Yeah. C’mon, Ma. I heard you cryin’ in your room last night, and when I told her, Izzy said it’s not fair of me to expect you to go the rest of your life alone. And then she looked up that Rye guy online, and she said I was to tell you, and I quote”—Micah groaned and rolled his eyes—“she said, ‘you better get you some of that Wyoming cowboy, or I’ll come down there and claim him for myself.’”

Pressing my lips together to stop the cackle that wanted to come out of my mouth, I took a deep breath, trying to exude mom energy instead of “ooo, you go, girlfriend” vibes.

“Go ahead,” he said. “You can laugh. I’m gonna ’cause if I don’t, I’ll cry. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

I chuckled. There, that was an appropriate mom-like reaction.

“Micah, tell Izzy to ease up on you, but tell her thanks for havin’ my back. I’m glad she asked you to talk to me because I wanted to talk to you too. She doesn’t need to be mad at you, though, ’cause I’m mad enough for the both of us. It’s time for you to accept that just ’cause I’m your mom, it doesn’t mean there aren’t things I want or that I don’t have needs.”

“Okay, but can we please not talk about sex? I don’t ever want that image in my head again.”