“Aaron,” Will chided.
Mom flicked her gaze to him and lay her hand on his wrist. “I deserved that.” To me, she said, “Your brothers thought it was time I tell you. About why I left.”
I twisted the cap off the water that sat in front of me and took a chug, feeling the coolness of it wash into my chest and wishing it’d wash everything else away with it. I studied her face, how worn it looked despite the clarity in her eyes.
“I guess I should start by saying I love you.”
I flinched. “You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it.”
She nodded. “I know. And the second thing to tell you is how sorry I am.” She looked at the table and traced a pattern with her finger. Finally, she met my eyes. “I was depressed. Clinically. I’d fought it since I was in my teens, and it got worse with each pregnancy.”
My chest tightened. Great. So this really was my fault.
Price kicked my foot and shook his head. “Not your fault, man. Listen to her.”
How the hell did he always know what I was thinking?
I shifted my eyes back to her and nodded tightly.
She smiled sadly. “No, my depression is definitely not your fault. Never was. It took me years to get diagnosed, and it was way after I’d left here.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you left,” I said. Mental illness was terrible, full stop. But there had to be more to the story than that.
“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. “My parents never took me seriously. They’d never wanted kids, and when I came along, I was far too dour for them to deal with. They decided I was a moody teen, and once I went to college, they were done with me. I wasn’t welcome in their home after that.” She wrung her hands. They were aged, worn. Her nails were short and uneven, but clean. The sweater she wore looked old, as well, but taken care of.
“I didn’t finish college. Met your father when he was in Tuscaloosa visiting some friends, fell head over heels for him, and followed him here, back to his home.”
My lips tipped up at the memory of Dad telling the story. How he’d seen this dark-haired, gray-eyed beauty and couldn’t believe his luck when she smiled at him.
“Just being around your father was enough. For a while, anyway,” she continued. “But with each pregnancy, my symptoms got worse. And your dad, he wanted me to talk to someone. But instead of talking, I drank.”
I laughed harshly. “No shit.”
“Yes. No shit,” she repeated softly. “And as my depression got worse, so did my drinking.”
“And then you laid in bed all day, managing to rouse yourself for Will and Price, but not for me,” I said. “I remember.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I deserve that.”
I let out a breath. “Look. I appreciate what you’re saying here. And I’m glad you’ve finally gotten help—I really am. But you still haven’t explained why you left, or why you stayed away for over twenty years. Twenty-two years, Mom, if we’re counting. And I am.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Price swatted my arm. “Be patient.”
I looked at him. “Really? While she’s getting around to explaining her side of things, how about you two explain to me how much of this you’ve known and kept from me?” Heat coursed through me and I gripped the plastic bottle so hard that water spurted out and ran down my fingers.
Will leaned forward. “Quit being an asshole, Aaron.”
“I don’t have an excuse for leaving the way I did,” Mom said, shutting all of us up.
I sat back in my chair and waited.
She fidgeted with her hands. “I checked myself into a clinic in Tennessee. I needed to get far enough away that I couldn’t run home when it got too hard.” She met my eyes. “Your father knew. He decided it was best if we didn’t tell you boys anything.”
All the air left my lungs. Dad was the reason we never got an explanation?
“After everything I’d done, the way I’d behaved. I didn’t think I deserved to fight him on it. It was…shameful. The way I’d let you three down. You, Aaron, especially.”
I ground my teeth. “Still not making this any better. I’m trying to understand why it’s now that you’re finally here.”
“Let her finish,” Will growled.
I rolled my eyes.
She sighed. “So I got help. But I was still so ashamed of how I’d behaved. All I could hear was the disappointment of my parents all those years before, then the look in your dad’s eyes. All your eyes, really. Then I’d grab a drink and fall off the wagon.” She looked up again. “It was a cycle. For a long, long time. Whenever I showed up here, it was because I was trying to get better.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. “When Dad died? We could have helped. We could—”
“No,” she interrupted, sitting up in her chair. “You couldn’t. The only person who could help me was me. I never wanted to put the burden on you boys. It was the only thing your dad and I managed to get right.”
I shook my head, unconvinced, then looked at Will and Price. “When did you find out?”
They glanced at each other.
“Oh, fuck you two. Always the pair of you, thinking you know best, treating me like I’m incapable of handling things. I lost my childhood after she left. Not that the two of you noticed,” I said, the bitterness of it coating my tongue.
Will clenched his jaw. “Since I was nineteen.”
