Reckless, p.14
Reckless, page 14
"I thought you knew that," I admit.
His large hands gently cradle my face, the emotions creasing his features make me nervous. Is he upset? Is he happy? I don't know what he’s feeling at this moment and it has me on pins and needles. He opens his mouth to speak, but then my mom walks in, and he releases me.
I'm torn by the sudden situation I find myself in. On one hand, I want to find out why my mom has returned to Grove Hill. On the other hand, I need to know what Finn was going to say to me.
He backs away. "Um, I need to go. I have to check in with my dad," Finn says with an awkward laugh as he stands up.
He's lying. Why is he lying? Finn doesn't lie. It's one of his number one rules for himself. What is going on? Is he just making up an excuse to leave because of what I said?
The level of self doubt and uncertainty is making me want to cry.
"Oh, no. Well, it was nice to meet you, Finn, and thank you for sticking up for Francine," my mom says with a kind smile.
He doesn't return her smile. Instead, he nods and heads straight for the front door, closing it behind him without looking back.
Is it that bad of a thing that I'm the same girl he helped out of that tree ten years ago? If not, why would he want to leave?
My mom angles toward me, "I'm glad we're alone. He's a nice boy, but we need to talk, Francine," my mom says before giving me a serious look. "First off, where is your father?" she presses.
I'm taken aback by her question. "Where is he? He left with you!"
"What? No, he didn't."
"Yes, he did. You both left out of nowhere!" I'm getting frustrated. How does she not know this?
Of course, my father left with her. They went off somewhere to escape me.
“Are you telling me that your father hasn’t been here for six years?”
I examine her features when I answer, “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
"Francine," she says as she grabs my hand from across the island. "He wasn't with me. He was supposed to be here with you. The only reason I could handle being away for so long, is knowing he was here, taking care of you,”
“Wait, what?” I sit in shock as her words soak in.
She steps around the corner and takes the seat next to me. She gathers my hands between hers. "I was in a very bad place for a long time, and it made me a horrible mother.” She takes a deep breath. It looks like she’s trying to gather courage for what she says next. “I didn't protect you from that bastard and he got away with what he did to you. Now you've grown up, and you're so beautiful, Francine." Her eyes glisten with tears as she squeezes my hands even tighter. "I couldn't cope with things I went through, decisions I made, and it was so hard for me to get better. I fought. I fought as hard as I could because I wanted to come back to you. I swear, I had no idea—how could your dad do that to you? You were just a little girl, and he left you here alone."
She tilts her head down and brings our claps hands to her forehead. Then my mother’s body begins to shake as she sobs. A realization sinks in.
My mom didn't abandon me. The reason she never answered my texts or calls was because she couldn't. She was in rehab without a phone and my dad just ran off when I was left in his custody. What has been my reality for so long is suddenly a lie.
"You've been in rehab for six years?" I say, completely stunned.
She sniffles and tries to compose herself enough to answer my question. "I have. Not for the full six years. It was an eighteen-month program. Afterward, I'd go to a halfway house where I'd get a job, but I'd relapse. The halfway house was very toxic. It was insanity, so after my third try, I decided to do it on my own once rehab was over. Once I was sure I wouldn’t regress, I thought coming back on your birthday would be a good surprise. Unfortunately, my flight was delayed."
I’m not sure how to feel about this whole shitload of new information, but what I do know is that I believe her. What she says makes sense. My mom was very withdrawn, and I was young. I wouldn't have known if she was drinking or on drugs.
Wanting to make her feel better, I say, "I'm okay, Mom."
"I missed out on most of your life. First with my addiction, then with my recovery. I thought listening to the doctors and therapists when they said it was best for me not to be in your life, was best. That's not fair to you. I don't even know who you've become, and I want to… if you'll let me," my mom begs, pain in her eyes.
This right here, the talk we're having right now, is all I've ever wanted from her. She's asking to be a part of my life, to get to know me, and to be there for me as I grow into a woman.
I pull her into a hug and we hold each other as we cry.
We stay in that position for a long time. When I can talk, I confess, "I love you, Mom.”
She hugs me tighter. "I love you, too, honey. So fucking much."
CHAPTER 15
HER
I spend hours sitting on the couch talking to my mom. I learn about all the friends she made in rehab, her counselors, and she gives me a bunch of letters she wrote to me through the years that she never sent.
She didn't want to upset me because I was too young at the time to know what she was going through, so she saved them. It’s everything she always wanted to tell me but couldn't.
She thinks I'm ready to see them and I know I am, too. Hopefully, it will shed some light as to what tore our family apart.
"I thought you and Dad didn't care," I admit after a while. "I thought you left because you either hated me or couldn't handle what Uncle Martin did to me. I had no idea that you didn’t have much of a choice in leaving.”
"Oh, sweetheart. I shouldn't have ever left you under that impression. That's my fault. I relied on your father to smooth over any wrinkles and obviously he didn’t even attempt to. I should've told you I was sick and needed help," she says with a frown on her face. "If you don’t mind. Let’s take a break from talking about the past. If you ever have any questions, please feel free to ask me. I’m just too excited to learn about the woman that you have become. How have you been? I know you've been really strong to live by yourself for so long but not much else."
She wants to know me. I can't sugarcoat this. We need honesty to truly understand each other.
"Not good, Mom. Everything has been horrible. My PTSD from what Uncle Martin did is so terrible sometimes. I have these crippling nightmares about what happened. I had one on Saturday night when I was camping on the beach with my friends. Nothing helped it. Well, until…." I stop myself as the memory of Finn's voice that night enters my mind.
"Until what?" she asks.
I flush with embarrassment as I play with my hair like Finn would. "Until Finn. He helps a lot. He pulled me out of the nightmare and helped me deal with the flashbacks and anxiety."
My mom smiles at me with a knowing look on her face. "He's your support system," she assesses.
"Yeah. He's been helping me work through it. I feel safe with him, which is nuts because I'm one of ten people in the whole school who isn't scared of him," I say with a nervous laugh. Obviously my mom knows about their family, and although she didn’t seem to have a problem with us in front of Finn, I don’t know how she’ll react now that we are alone.
My mom sits patiently, absorbing my omission, then nods with a big smile on her face. "That's always going to be the case with the O'Reilly boys in this town. It has nothing to do with him as a person. If people are going to fear what they don't understand, that's not your problem. You see him for the man he is, not what the world thinks he might be.
"Example, your grandmother was terrified of Nigel," she explains. "She tried putting bars on my windows to keep me from sneaking out or him sneaking in. It didn’t matter. I would spend all day with him because I knew there was no way I could see him at night. I didn't let your grandmother's fear rule my life. Someone who bases their fears on others perceptions and not their own are sheep. They will be led astray over and over again because they don't think for themselves. We aren't sheep, Francine. You see the real Finn, not some idea others have of him. Same as I did with Nigel," my mom ends her speech with another smile.
"You loved him," I say, not asking a question, but making a statement.
"I did. Very much," she admits freely, but with sadness in her voice.
"And you still do," I add.
Instead of admitting it, she looks at me with shock. "What? How did—"
"You've made it pretty obvious, Mom. The way you talk about him, it says a lot. You still love him. There's nothing wrong with that."
It’s a bit awkward when I realize that I have feelings for the son of the guy my mom used to date and still loves. I didn't know before. Does that make it better?
She shrugs her shoulders as if it doesn’t matter if she admits the truth. "Yes, I do still love him. I doubt I will ever not love him. That's the thing about first loves. They never leave you. Depending on the situation, it can be a blessing or a curse. It's wonderful if it was an incredible love but if it was a bad love, it can make your life hell."
"What do you mean by incredible or bad love?" I ask, a little nervous about her answer.
"Incredible love is where it consumes you and rocks your world, yet also brings you peace and calm. It's something that you've always dreamed of and it's not toxic. Bad love is highly toxic, abusive, and is something no one ever wants to have. Sometimes, there is a middle ground between the two, but that can be even worse. Nigel was my incredible love. I’m sorry to tell you this but I never did end up falling in love with your father."
I'm stunned by what she says.
"You never loved Dad? Why are you still married to him?" I press with my emotions straining.
"I'm not married to him, sweetie. We got divorced right before I left. I know it might be hard to understand, but sometimes, when you care about someone, you need to put their needs above yours. Even if they don't want it and you don't want it," she whispers, her voice hoarse with emotion.
It's the same sadness that has always been festering beneath the surface. I just never made the connection before.
"Nigel?" I ask.
She nods. "Yes. I loved him and wanted to spend my life with him, but something horrible happened. I had no choice but to sacrifice our love to save his life. He was going to have to spend most of his life in jail because of me. I made a deal with your grandfather, Mr. Gray, to marry your father to spare Nigel. As you've seen yourself, when a Gray is involved, problems seem to go away. I had to let Nigel go to spare him.
"Nigel doesn't know what I did for him. Maybe it was a mistake to not let him know, but now, we live separate lives."
My mom made the ultimate sacrifice for love and her story is both inspirational and heartbreaking.
"The whole history between me and Nigel makes you feel a bit uneasy, doesn't it?" she asks, worry marring her features.
"Uneasy?"
"Because of you and Finn. I mean, he's your boyfriend, right?"
I can see why my mother would assume this. She did see us being affectionate with each other and he did stick up for me with the principal. But the boyfriend label? I don't think he's ready for that. He might never be ready for it.
"Finn doesn't do the whole girlfriend thing," I admit.
I watch how my mom arches her eyebrow in question but doesn't say anything. Should I have said something different?
"We're exclusive," I say nervously. "He just doesn't like labels, but we're together and it's still very new." I'm not sure what else to say about it. I'm not ready to tell her how crazy Finn makes me feel and I sure as hell am not ever telling her about our little bet.
At this point, I'm not even sure what is worse—if I win the bet or if I lose. Yes, I want to be with Finn, but what if I give myself to him and he doesn't want me back? I don't need the girlfriend label, but I don't want things to be over between us because of the bet.
To hell with the bet. I need to not worry about it and live in the moment. I care about Finn and that’s all that matters.
"Do you care about the labels?" she asks.
"No, not really. It doesn't matter. The whole thing is stupid. If it's real, why does it matter what you call it?" I respond with conviction.
She grins at me. "Is it real?" she presses for more.
"It's still too early to tell. You saw how he ran out of here earlier. He lied when he said why he was leaving and that's one of his big no-no's," I admit, worried about why he left.
"How do you know he was lying?" she asks, concerned.
I mess with my fingers, a nervous habit I’ve always had. "I know him. I think I freaked him out."
"How did you freak him out?"
"Do you remember, long ago, when I was eight… when I told you about some mystery boy that scared away some bullies that were messing with me?"
Her eyes twinkle with delight. "Oh my god. Of course, I do. You wouldn't stop talking about it. Your father was convinced that kid was an imaginary friend you invented. He'd always roll his eyes, but I thought it was quite adorable how you idolized that mysterious kid." Laughter leaks into her words as she remembers.
I start to blush as I get ready to tell her the truth. "That was Finn," I confess.
Her laughter stops as she stares at me in stunned silence. "Finn?" she finally says. "Finn is the boy who protected you?"
I nod. "Yeah, he is."
"How do you know?" she presses for more details.
"He told me his name that day. He doesn't look that different, either. His hair is still the same and his unique blue eyes are a dead giveaway. I thought he remembered too, but turns out, it was just a coincidence that he likes me. He only realized it when you were in the other room. He was shocked. Then he ran off."
My mom hugs me and squeezes my shoulder in support. "Oh, honey. You shouldn't be worried."
"I think I should check on him. I just have a bad feeling."
I stand, then look at her. Should I leave? What if she disappears again? We're just getting to know each other again.
Seeing the trepidation on my face, she says, "I'll be here when you get back." She places her hand on her chest, directly over her heart. “I promise.”
"You better," I warn as I make my way to the front.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she teases me.
Grabbing my purse, I laugh over my shoulder. "From what you've told me, that isn't much!"
"Touché!"
I can’t help but smile on my way to my car. I can’t believe my mom is back in my life. Now I just need to kick a jackass in the shin and my life will be the most perfect it’s ever been.
The streets are fairly clear as I follow the route Finn took when he drove me home yesterday. He lives closer to the school, but it's a dangerous part of town, surrounded by decrepit houses and closed businesses.
When Grove Hill was first founded, the neighborhood started with ten small businesses. Our town has come a long way since those days.
I'm about to turn into Finn's neighborhood when I spot a large black truck idling at a red light. It’s Finn’s, and I can tell he’s in the driver's seat from the black curls sticking out from the hood on his head.
He's dressed differently—incognito, if anything.
Where the hell is he going?
Concern starts sparking in my brain, he usually drives his motorcycle. So when he turns onto Mason Street, I follow. I stay as far back as I dare so he doesn’t see my car, but close enough so I don't lose sight of his truck.
He takes the highway into Houston, past downtown, and into the ship channel. He exits at Wayside Drive, and we arrive in another seedy area I've never been to. Several abandoned looking warehouses loom ahead and I slow my car as I observe him pull into the gravel parking lot.
He arrives at Warehouse Five where three other vehicles are parked. I recognize them. They're the same cars that were parked outside Finn's house.
What the hell is he doing here? Why are the Bastards gathering in this warehouse?
A small part of me is scared, but mostly I’m curious as to why Finn lied to me.
I wait for the liar to enter before I get out of my car and slowly tiptoe after him.
Doubts start racing through my mind and I almost convince myself this is a bad idea. I followed Finn here. This could be considered stalking. If he wanted me to know where he was going, he would tell me, right?
But I have to know. Why did he think he needed to lie?
I slowly trudge over to the heavy metal door and hesitate before touching it. I’m not sure what’s on the other side but I guess I’m about to find out. I pull the heavy metal door open, letting it slam against the outside wall with a thud.
Staring inside the warehouse, I freeze, stunned by what I see. My heart hammers so hard in my chest it’s all I can hear. My mind is fixated on a single thought that seems to be playing on repeat.
This is who Finn really is. It all makes sense now. Can I handle it?
CHAPTER 16
HIM
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I'm cursing myself incessantly as I drive as fast and as far away from Francine as I can.
I can't believe the massive bombshell she dropped on me, but it makes sense.
Same curly blonde hair.
Same bright green eyes.
Same sweet, calming presence.
Why the fuck didn't I see it before? Probably because the memory of that girl was burned into my brain like a brand. She would always be frozen in time as an eight year old girl in a proper pink dress, hiding in her tower. The day I saw her, I didn’t think. I just ran to her rescue. It was as if there was an invisible rope, tethering me to her. No slack to run away, only giving me the option of going toward her.
There was no choice.
That day, I ran to her. Now, I'm running from her. I had no clue they were the same girl when my obsession with her started. I just knew I needed to know her.
