Page 129 of Wrong For Me

It’s just after two when I hear the sound of a car engine coming up the long driveway. I’m once again curled up in the porch swing, staring blankly at the woods surrounding the house. A shiny black SUV finally appears through the trees, kicking up clouds of dust on the gravel drive. They park next to River’s rental car and a moment later, both my parents step out into the sunshine.

Because I’m a coward, I duck my head before I can see either of their faces, too scared to see what kind of expression they might be wearing. Scared to see pain in my mother’s eyes.

River steps forward to greet them when they reach the porch and I see them hugging out of the corner of my eye. I’m pretty sure I hear my dad say “thank you” to Riv before he turns to me.

“Hey, Rosie.”

I finally force myself to look up and it’s every bit as bad as I imagined it to be. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen either of them look so worried. My dad’s blue eyes are filled with concern. Guilt and pain are etched in every line of my mom’s face.

I did that to her. I did that because I was stupid enough to open up to someone outside of the family. Again.

I cover my face and finally, for the first time since my uncles showed up at the apartment yesterday, I cry.

“Oh, sweetie,” my mom murmurs and then both of them have their arms around me. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

“Hush,” she whispers, hugging me tighter. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did!” I insist through my tears. “I said those things about you. Not that I resented you, I never said that… but the rest…” I’m babbling but I can’t stop, and I can’t silence my noisy sobs, either. “I talked about your past to someone. I trusted the wrong person.”

I’ve been doing everything I possibly could over the last twenty hours to keep from thinking about Leo. I had to keep thoughts of him buried, had to keep him separate from everything else or else the pain would be so bad I couldn’t see straight. But now his face flashes through my mind and I swear it feels like my heart is cracking down the middle.

I try to push that pain away. I need to focus on my mom. I need to make this better somehow. “Ibetrayedyou,” I say into her shoulder, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

“Rose Ransome,” she says, her voice suddenly sharp, much sharper than I’m used to hearing from her. “You stop that right now.”

I’m surprised enough that I pull back from their embrace to look at her. Every detail of her face is as familiar to me as my own—but now her sparkling green eyes are filled with an unfamiliar fire.

“You did not betray me. You’re allowed to talk about the things that affect you, baby. I want you to.” She swallows, her steely determination seeming to falter for one moment before it’s back as strong and fierce as before. “I promised myself that I was going to raise my kids to feel comfortable talking about the shit that they’re feeling. I never wanted you to keep things bottled up.”

“But that doesn’t mean I should go blabbing to strangers about your business.”

“You care about that boy,” she says, shaking her head. “He wasn’t a stranger and you didn’t go blabbing.” She cups my cheeks in her hands. “Do you honestly think I’m mad that some article mentioned my past?”

I blink at her. “Aren’t you?”

She sighs. “Sweetheart, the press is always going to write stupid shit. It’s what they do.” Then her eyes darken, pain and maybe a little bit of anger flashing through them. “What I’m upset about is the fact that you seem to think you can’t talk to me when things get tough.”

“I don’t think that, Mom.”

She narrows her eyes. “Really? You don’t intentionally hide things from me because you’re afraid I’ll be hurt? Because you’re afraid I’ll feel guilty?”

I swallow. That was basically a quote straight from the article. It’s what I told Leo—that I was determined to never hurt her, to never put that guilt back in her eyes. So I kept things from her, not wanting her to ever feel like my life was mirroring hers.

“After what happened with Brian,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “You seemed so…upset.”

“Of course I was upset,” she says. “That little dick weasel hurt my baby.”

I snort at her choice of words, and hear my dad’s soft chuckle next to me. But I sober real quick as memories of the day that sent my world crashing down come rushing back.

“You weren’t just upset, Mom,” I say softly. “You seemed…it was like you felt responsible. Like you were watching history repeat. I felt like you were blaming yourself.”

She looks thoughtful. “I guess I was, to an extent. Just like your dad was.”

That surprises me and I look over at him. He smiles gently, even though he looks so sad. “All parents want to protect their kids, babe. I think sometimes, for us, it’s a little harder. Because we know it’s our decisions that put you in the position you’re in.”

“But you didn’t—”