Page 149 of Reckless Storm
Either way, for now, it’s easier. If Hayley wasn’t going to be here, there was no way I was going to face him alone.
“I already know,” I admit. “It’s a shame I won’t see him,” I lie and Mom laughs to herself, flashing me a knowing grin.
“Your father?”
“Yep.” I nod, smiling to hide the pain. Mom’s happy now, grinning from ear to ear, but according to Dad, the moments of happiness have been few and far between, especially in the last few weeks.
I’ve always wished I could do more, but since Mom’s in denial about how awful Jace is, and my dad would do anything to keep her happy, this is the best I’ve got.Being hereis the best I can do. Making her happy. Makingthemhappy. Being their golden boy. The kid they never had to worry about. The son that made them proud. Did his chores. Passed his tests. Brought laughter into the home.Helped.
Whenever someone would speak about my brother in a negative light, Mom would change the subject to me, talking about a trophy I’d won, or the little old lady I’d walked across the street.
When I was younger, I faked all that, but as I grew, that version of me became real, much in the same way my feelings for Hayley have.
Which is why I can’t trust them. Not yet.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Reed.” Mom interrupts my thoughts as she steps back, her motherly gaze running over me, assessing my well-being, as if she can tell how I am simply by looking at me.
“Shall we go inside?” she says after a beat, presumably deciding I’m good, even though I’m not. “Martha’s over and she’d love to see you. The town’s always talking about how incredible you are and fawning over your new relationship. Do you know some of the ladies had no idea Hayley was an actress? Can you imagine? She’s ahugestar. How could they not?”
“Wow. That blows my mind.” I chuckle, not mentioning the fact that I had to show Mom who she was when I first started talking about her.
“I think she’s the one, Reed. I have a feeling.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh it off, while my heart slams in my chest. “You haven’t even met her.”
“I don’t have to. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about her, and I see it in your eyes now. Call it mother’s intuition.”
What? My smile drops as a wave of emotion takes over me. “What did you think about Bria?”
“Bria?” Her nose scrunches. “What do you mean?”
“When I talked about her, what did you think?”
Her brows furrow as confusion mars her features. “You mean you don’t know?”
“No, that’s why I’m asking.”
“We thought she was nice enough and knew you were a little infatuated, but she was never right for you. It was obvious by the way you always held back. As though something deep within you here”—she holds her palm above my heart—“was convinced there was someone else out there. And I think that someone was Hayley.”
What. The. Fuck.
Mom links her arm through mine and begins walking me to the door, but I pull her to a stop, turning her to face me. “You really thought that?” Like me, Mom sees the good in everyone, but unlike me, she’s a terrible judge of character and doesn’t tend to look much past the surface. It surprises me that she noticed all that. If it’s true.
“Yes, I really thought that. Why would I lie? You’re a good guy, Reed. The best person I know. Better than anyone in this town. You’re intuitive, thoughtful, observant. And you know you could have anyone you want.” I open my mouth to protest but she cuts me off. “Don’t pretend otherwise. You know it. Yet, you never made a move on Bria. Even in the early days when your crush began. And, on that note, can you remind me which of your tattoos belongs to her?”
“What?” I shake my head at the sudden change in direction.
“All of your tattoos belong to someone or something, right? You told me that the day I first noticed you’d gotten one. Only to find out you already had six.”
Fuck. I did say that.
“The eagle belongs to your high school football team,” she continues. “The guys that got you through the days when your brother was at his worst. The three hearts on the left of your rib cage belong to me, my mom, and your father’s mother, while the fish on the right belong to the men in your life—you father and grandfathers.”
Holy shit.She’s a lot more observant than I realized.
“Tell me, Reed. Which piece of beautiful art belongs to Bria? I’m curious.”
She’s questioning me like she already knows the answer, but that’s impossible. How could she? I have close to fifty tattoos. She doesn’t know the meaning behind them all. Hell, she doesn’t even know that some of them exist. I may have told her about a few, and others are easy to guess, but apart from that…
