AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re good with kids,” Blaise said. “And I was thinking about how you’d be with …”
“With what?” I whispered, though I already knew what he was about to say. The memory of him joking around a few weeks ago at his place fluttered through my head again, my stomach becoming light.
Before, it might’ve been a joke. But now …
“I’m not even going to finish it,” he joked. “I don’t want you freaking out on me again.”
“No,” I said, heart pounding in anticipation. “Say it.”
While I wanted to be completely focused on him, I spotted Mom walking down the street toward the house from a bus stop. She stared at the ground and shook her head, her curly black hair covering her face.
I grabbed Blaise’s hand to stop him and furrowed my brows. “What is she doing home?”
She was supposed to be working a double today.
“Mom?”
Snapping her head up, she stared at me through teary eyes. My eyes widened, and I hurried over to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. Worry erupted through my insides, the worst of the worst thoughts running through my head.
“What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you.” She sniffled. “Please tell me that your brother isn’t home.”
“He’s out with friends. What’s wrong?”
After apologizing to Blaise for being a mess, she took my hand and pulled me into the house. Blaise lingered outside, riding his skateboard up and down the streets of the slums and out of our way for now.
“Mom, you’re scaring me. What is it?”
She collapsed onto the couch and threw her head into her hands. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I lied to you, and I … I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But when you brought it up yesterday …”
“Brought what up? What are you talking—”
Oh shit.
“About Blaise’s father,” she said between hiccups. “They sent me home because I couldn’t hold it together at work. I had never meant anything to happen between us. I never flirted with him. I never made any advances on him. I barely even looked at him. But one day …”
My breath caught in the back of my throat.
I sat down on the couch next to her and pulled her into my arms, gently rubbing her back. “Mom, you don’t have to tell me. I was out of line for asking about it.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” she cried. “Not even your father while he was alive.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, rocking her back and forth. “I’m sorry.”
“All these years, I’ve pretended that it never happened. All these years, I’ve been lying to myself and to you both. I tried to be the perfect mother and wife while living with … with the memory of … of h-him.”
Chest tightening, I pushed back my tears and held her tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
Suddenly, she sat up, wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, and grabbed my forearms. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Not Blaise. Not Mateo. Not anyone. It’s dangerous to speak about and even more dangerous that Blaise is living with us. But I’m not going to let that sweet boy stay out on the streets or live in a hotel when we have a home for him.”
“I won’t say anything to him.”
“Or Mateo,” Mom said.
“Mateo …” I trailed off.
If Blaise’s father had taken advantage of Mom, right around the time that his mom fired her, then that would mean he could potentially be …
