Page 52 of SEAL of Valor

“Where is your mom?”

Her question catches me off guard. My mom? Why does she want to know about my mom? “What?”

“She’s not here. Did she move into town?”

I stare at her, reading the question she’s not asking: is she alive?

“In Florida. She left the week after we buried Violet.”

“What? She left you?” Reese’s horrified expression is enough to make me wish I’d downplayed it. Pity is one thing I really, really don’t need.

“Why are you so surprised? Seems like that was the thing to do after Violet was in the ground.”

The words hit their mark, and I regret them the second they leave my mouth. Her expression darkens, and her bottom lip trembles.

Running both hands over my face, I take a deep breath. “Sorry. Yes. She left. Said living here was too heavy a reminder that she didn’t have anything left.”

“But she had you.”

I snort. “According to her, I was a reminder of my dad, and she couldn’t stomach looking at me anymore, knowing that he’d cost her everything.”

“Weston.” My name is spoken softly, each syllable dripping with pity.

“Look, it’s fine. I dropped her off in Florida, and that was that.”

“Does she come visit?”

“I haven’t seen her since.”

“Do you talk to her at all?”

“Once a year. Though that’s ending, too.”

“That’s horrible.” I can see her trying to process what I’m saying, picturing what it must have been like for me in those days. That’s what Reese does. She’s empathetic to the core, putting herself in someone else’s shoes is second nature for her.

“At least I didn’t have to deal with her being so high she didn’t even know my name.” I start to turn away.

“I’m so sorry, Weston.” Eyes shimmering with tears, she stares at me.

I close my eyes, the words hitting me square in the chest. Taking a deep breath, I try to slip a mask into place as I turn to face her again. “For what? It’s not your fault that she left.”

“I left you, too.” Her eyes glisten with tears, and I flex my fingers at my sides, desperate to reach for her. Would she come into my arms? Or lean back in disgust?

Needing the slight distraction, I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t the greatest support.”

“I should have been there for you. You were hurting, and I was selfish.”

Selfish? Is she serious? “Reese, I really don’t want to get into this.”

“But I do. I need to move forward, Weston, and I can’t do that with this weight between us.”

Move forward.

Those two words are an anvil dropped on my head. They hurt worse than any bullet I’ve taken, any blade that’s sliced through me. Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, her return was something I hoped meant repairing what was between us.

Not moving on from it.

“Then say what you need to say.”