Love on the Lake (Lakeside #2)(72)
“I’m sure. I’ll see about getting my old trailer set up, and if the squirrels haven’t made a home out of it, maybe Jamie and I can have a campout while he’s here.”
“He’d love that. Will Teagan be around?”
“She absolutely will.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I know Jamie’s been asking about her nonstop.”
“He’s enamored, like you. I’ll call you later in the week to firm up the details, then?”
“That sounds good.”
We say our goodbyes, and I end the call. Tossing my phone on the coffee table, I exhale a breath and try to shake off the anxiety.
“Your dad is coming to visit,” Teagan says.
“Yeah. I can’t keep making excuses as to why they can’t come here.” Or why we have to go two towns over whenever we go anywhere. “And frankly, I don’t want to anymore.”
“Do you think your mom will still be upset? When was the last time you tried to talk to her about it?” Teagan has gotten to know my mom because they both work at Harry’s. They have lunch together in the break room sometimes. My mom adores her, which is great because I do too.
I was worried after she met Jamie and Lydia and my dad that she would accidentally mention them to my mom, and then I’d have to explain or deal with the guilt. But I can see what not dealing with this has done to me. How it’s made me closed off and set me up for a lifetime of meaningless one-night stands with women who only see me as a means to an orgasm. Until I met Teagan.
Teagan, who always puts herself last.
Teagan, who’s fighting ghosts and struggling to let me in. And I’m putting her in an impossible position, forcing her to keep my secrets.
I’m so in love with her it’s almost painful. And if I can’t face down my own demons, how in the world can I expect her to face hers?
So I’m willing to take this step in order to help her see that she’s got her own healing to do too.
“Yeah. I have to. I’ve been putting it off because I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but honestly, the only person whose life this doesn’t affect is hers—at least it hasn’t, because I’ve been keeping her in the dark. I’ve spent all these years blaming myself for Devon’s death, all this time hiding the relationship I’ve had with my dad, and all it does is breed resentment. And now you have to keep this secret from her too. It’s not fair to you, or me, or anyone. I don’t want to live two separate lives anymore. I can’t.” I’m hoping that if I take this step, I might be able to help her take one of her own. Get her to drop some of the obligations she’s been taking on, and maybe convince her to talk to Van about Bradley so it doesn’t weigh so heavy on her shoulders.
“Then you should talk to her. Tell her what you need. You’ve been sitting on this pain for a lot of years. Let her take some of the burden, then maybe you can both heal.”
I wish she could take some of her own advice.
The next night I head over to my mom’s for dinner. Teagan sends me with biscuits and muffins. I half wanted to invite her along so I’d have the buffer, but it’s Thursday night and she has to work, and putting her in the middle of this situation more than she already is isn’t fair.
My mom lives in a one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of a fiveplex. Everything in it is tired and in need of updating, but she refuses my help financially and always has.
“Hey, Mom.” I give her a hug, her small frame dwarfed by mine. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a loose sweater.
“It’s good to see you, come on in. I wasn’t sure if you were bringing Teagan or not.” She seems disappointed by her absence.
“She has to work tonight, but she sent along some treats. You’ll have to come over for dinner one of these days. She can cook like nobody’s business.”
“That sounds lovely. She’s such a nice girl. And always on the go!”
“That she is. She’s not a fan of idle time.” To a fault, maybe. But I keep that to myself.
I help her prepare dinner, nerves making it hard for me to focus.
“Is everything okay, Aaron? You seem distracted,” she says as she pulls a root beer from the fridge and pops off the cap.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Of course. You can talk to me about anything, you know that.” She offers me a small, concerned smile.
For the most part it’s not a lie. She’s always been there for me. She did the best she could as a single mom. Made the choices she thought were best for the both of us. But that’s the thing about choices—we make them framed in our singular experience, not always taking into account time or current circumstances. But there has always been one topic that wasn’t open for discussion, and I’m about to broach it in a way I never have before.
“It’s about my biological dad.”
Her expression shutters. From one second to the next the mood shifts completely. “You know I don’t have contact with him. I haven’t spoken to him since you went to college.”
“I know.” I take a deep breath, feeling like a teenager who stole the car and crashed it into the bushes—something I never did. “Please don’t be mad, Mom.”
“Mad about what? What could I possibly be upset with you for?”