Page 81 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

“Because I'm filing for divorce. Finally.”

I stare at him. The pressure behind my eyes builds so quickly it makes my head spin.

“No.”

No. No. No. No. No.

Just when I think he can’t ruin anything, he goes and says this. Says that he is abandoning her fully. Like pushing her away all those years ago wasn’t enough. Now he’s tracked her down just to put the final nail in the coffin.

It’ll destroy her. She doesn’t deserve that.

“Colt—”

“No.” I shake my head. It does nothing to make my head feel better. “You can’t.”

The words sound pathetic the moment they leave my mouth. I know that. Because really, what am I exactly asking for?

Them to get back together?

For her to suddenly walk through the door after eighteen years and return to being a family again?

I don’t know. But hearing him say it feels wrong.

Wade’s brow furrows. “Son—”

“Don’t call me that.” I push back from the table slightly, chair screeching across the floor. “Why now? After all this time?”

“I think it’s time to move forward, So—Colt.”

The edges of my vision blur slightly, the world tilting a fraction before I pull myself back.

“She’s in Chicago.” Despite his quiet tone, the words echo in my head so fucking loudly. My grip slips from the edge of the table, I hadn’t noticed I was clinging to it. My fingers are red raw from the pressure.

Chicago. A real place.

She’s been living her life only a short plane journey away all this time, while I’d spent years wondering where she was.

“I just wanted you to know that.” Wade continues. “And if you want her details, contact information, you can have them. It’s completely your choice.”

The kitchen suddenly feels way too warm.

I’ve wanted this for so long, to have the opportunity to have her in front of me again. To ask the questions that have followed me around for most of my life. Why she left. Why she never came back.

For years, I clung to that possibility like a lifeline. Convinced that if I could just get answers, everything would finally make sense.

“Before you decide anything…” Wade’s says carefully, “There are things I should’ve told you a long time ago.” There’s a slight shift in his voice, the one that makes everything feel serious. It causes me to look at him, worry clear across his face.

“I want you to hear the truth about your mom. Ain’t doing it to hurt you. You got a right to know.”

My fingers dig into my thigh beneath the table. Anticipating the answers I’ve been waiting for all this time.

“There ain’t a good way to say this, Son, but your mom had a drug problem.”

“No. No, she didn’t.”

Wade’s eyes drop close briefly. Not in an angry way. No, I don’t think so.

More like he knew this would be the hardest part for me to hear.