Page 19 of Songbird: Black Kite
But she was getting older, and I hated myself for how I hadn’t really noticed.
“Are you alright?” I asked suddenly, watching as her smile dimmed a little.
“Of course I am, honey.”
“No, Mom, I mean—” I pressed my fist against the table, fighting the emotion that was swelling up inside me. “Are you sure you’re alright here still? In this house? Do you feel safe? Happy? Can I do anything for you?”
“Hawk,” she said softly, one hand reaching out to cover my clenched fist. “Honey, where is this coming from?”
“I just—” I blew out a breath, focusing on the feel of her warm hand against my own. “I feel like I’ve failed you. Like I signed that contract and just left. I left you here, alone, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Hawk Jameson,” she said, her tone the same one she’d used when I’d left dishes in the sink. “You stop that right now. You know why I’m still here. Why I can’t—why I can’t leave.” She took a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing. “I have never wanted for anything from you but your time, and you always give that to me when you can.”
“I could have come more—” I started, but she cut me off.
“You came when you could,” she said pointedly, and I knew she meant more than she was saying.
I came when I was sober. I came when I was struggling.
I came when I needed her.
The selfish asshole I had been had always come when she could do something for me instead of visiting to see if I could do something for her. I had done nothing but take when I should have been giving, and I hated myself for it.
“I know I haven’t always been easy to deal with,” she went on, oblivious to my brutal self revelations. “I tried to be better for you, Hawk. I really did.”
“Hey.” Turning in my chair, I reached for her, this time covering her hands with mine. She was so small, but her delicate structure hid such strength. “You did everything you could, Mom. I know that. I only pushed as hard as I did to get you to move because I could have put you up somewhere nice.” She scowled, opening her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I know this house is nice. But you know what I mean. I’d love for you to have a sweet little place out in Malibu, on the water where the breeze could blow in all day, and you could watch the sunsets from your rooftop patio, safe and secure.” She smiled again, and I knew that no matter how hard she protested, she would love living like that.
She just couldn’t make herself get there.
“It sounds lovely,” she agreed, and the sadness in her eyes broke me just a little more. Because she could tell herself she was happy all day long, and maybe she was, in general. But she also knew what her limitations were, and how much she was missing by not being able to leave this place.
“You still meeting with Dr. Atkins?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“I am. That woman is so nice to talk to, Hawk. Thank you for finding her for me.”
I hadn’t found her, Tori had, but I kept that little piece of information to myself. Mom hated Tori, but she was doing so well with Dr. Atkins that I didn’t want to jeopardize her progress by tainting the situation with Tori’s touch.
“I’m glad it’s working out, Mom.”
“You know,” she said, sipping her tea and sliding the plate of cookies my way. “Dr. Atkins said that with a little more time, I might be able to visit you at your house one day. I sure would love a swim in your pool.”
“That would be great, Mom,” I said, taking the lie for what it was worth and offering her one of my own. “I know it will happen.”
Chapter twelve
Hawk
Present
Thesoundofclickingheels in the hallway sent shivers crawling up my spine.
It was a trauma response, I was sure, because there was only one woman who walked like that in this house, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck she was even doing here.
Her steps got closer, and I paused in the letter I was currently reading, my anger at being disturbed burning like a hot coal in my gut.
How dare she come here, now of all times?
When I had finally found another of Wren’s letters.
