Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers Book 3) (28 page)

I
’m sitting
outside the house, my car running. I’m nervous. I haven’t been here in over five years and the house definitely looks worse for the wear. The peeling white paint is faded to almost a dull, flat yellow. The gutter hangs down on the left side about a foot. The bushes are unruly and overgrown and the cracks in the sidewalk and driveway have grown larger. A large tree branch from the hundred-year oak in the front yard lies on the too-long grass. It would have to be moved before the grass could be trimmed.

Sam’s expecting me; my mother isn’t. I told Sam not to say anything in case I changed my mind. It’s not too late. I could turn around and drive back to Chicago. Forget I was ever here. I could tell Sam something came up at the studio and I couldn’t make it. But just as I decide to leave, I remember Luke’s words in his note about fixing things.

Fixing himself. For
me
.

And I know I need to do the same for him. I’ve not acknowledged it before, but there are parts of me that are cracked. Parts only I can mend. Seeing my mom is one of those steps I need to take and it’s something I need to do on my own. I think my bad relationship with my mother has affected all the others in my life more than I ever wanted to admit.

Steeling myself, I shut off the engine and step out into the cool spring air, making my way to the front door. Sam answers almost immediately, hugging me.

“I’m glad you came. She’s lucid right now, so hurry,” she whispers as she ushers me into the small, three-bedroom ranch house I used to call home.

Everything on the inside is exactly as I remember. The shag carpet is green and dirty white, matted in most places so you wouldn’t even know it was supposed to be shag at some point twenty years ago. The walls match the outside; dingy off-white that’s yellowing. When we pass the kitchen, I notice the peeling brown-and-gold vinyl floor and the same puke-green refrigerator that hums too loudly.

As we wind through the small house, memories assail me from everywhere, but the thing I notice now that I never did before is there are pictures of
me
everywhere. Baby pictures. School pictures. Recent candids that my mom must have gotten from Eric or Landyn. They didn’t come from me.

They’re everywhere.

On the walls.

In frames on the end tables.

Stuck with colorful magnets to the fridge.

And on the nightstand by the hospital bed that sits in the middle of the living room. It’s a picture of me, Sam, and Eric three years ago at Christmas. It was one of the few holidays when Sam actually joined us at my dad’s.

I’m speechless. And near tears.

“Adeline. My sweet Adeline. You’re here,” my mom rasps, holding out her shaky pale hand. I rush to take it.

My mother was officially put in hospice a week ago. She refused to stay in the hospital, saying she wanted to die at home, instead. Sam told me she didn’t think she’d make it more than two or three weeks before she was gone. Seeing her now, I would agree.

I didn’t plan on coming to see her, resolute in my decision that ours is a broken relationship and trying to fix it in the last few days of her life would be pointless. Yet, thinking about what Eric said weeks ago, I decided I didn’t want to risk having any more regrets.

So here I am.

“Hey, Mom.” Her hand is cold and clammy. Her skin is yellow, swollen, and stretched taut with excess fluid. She has several very dark, very prominent bruises on her arms, and it’s easy to see how weak she is. She doesn’t look at all like my mother. She looks like a woman who is close to death’s door. Sam warned me what to expect, though I have to admit, I didn’t conjure this picture at all in my head.

I pull up a chair that’s close to her bed and take a seat. Sam quietly slinks out, leaving us alone.

“How are you feeling?”
Stupid
, stupid question to ask a dying person, but I don’t know what else to say.

“Okay,” she rattles.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

She weakly clings to my hand and we sit there in awkward silence. My mom and I were never very good at easy chitchat. We don’t have much in common beyond surface stuff and even that’s challenging most times. She never asks questions about my life, my business, my boyfriends. All of our conversations are always about her.

Except now, she starts asking questions about me. She has a hard time speaking and our conversation evolves slowly over the next half hour, yet she fires question after question. All about me, and I fight to hold myself together. Suddenly I wish I’d waited to do this until Luke was with me.

“Sam says you have a boyfriend.” Sam told her that even after the crazy she witnessed?

I give her a sad smile. “Yes.”

“Do you love him?”

“Very much, Mom.” I tear up. I miss him so much I ache everywhere.

“Does he love you?”

“More than anyone ever has.” I feel like that’s a jab to my mother, but I can’t deny the truth. I have never felt as unconditionally loved by anyone as I have Luke.

“I could have been a better mother, Adeline.”

How does one respond to that? Do you agree? Do you assure her she was the best mother she could have been? Do you tell her it’s okay when it’s not? I don’t know, so I say nothing.

We fall quiet for several minutes, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. The morbid thought crosses my mind that she must lay here and just listen to her life tick away, one second at a time. Suddenly, I don’t want to waste another minute away from Luke, although I know I can’t leave yet.

“I would do so many things differently given the chance.” She pauses so long I’m sure she’s fallen back to sleep. Her eyes stay shut, but she slowly continues. “I would have made sure you knew I loved you. I did, you know, even though I didn’t show it like I should have. I should have been less selfish, seeing to your needs first like a mother ought to. I should have told you that you were wanted. I’m sorry, Addy.”

Tears stream down my face for so many reasons. This is the first time in my life she’s called me Addy. This is the first time she’s
ever
apologized. This is the first time she’s acknowledged she could have done better. Once again stillness reigns.

“You should rest,” I tell her quietly.

But she doesn’t listen. She squeezes my hand slightly before continuing.

“I loved your father, Adeline. Deeply. Truly. I never loved another man before or after him, but I pushed him away like I did everyone else and I lost the best thing to ever happen to me. I’ve never spoken of this to any of you kids: my childhood was rough. There was abuse, neglect.”

She pauses, gathering herself. I don’t think she’s going to say any more when she adds, “I always tried to deny the damage it really did deep within me. It’s too late for me, but now, I do have clarity. Unfortunately, I think we see things too clearly when we know our time here on earth is about up and it’s too late to fix our wrongs. I know I lived a messed-up life and I know how badly I screwed up the lives of so many of those in mine.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I croak through my thin airway. I have no idea what I’m even apologizing for, but suddenly I see her in a whole new light. I feel a twinge of empathy I’ve never had for her before.

“Not your place to be sorry, Addy.” She glances at the new necklace I’m wearing, my olive leaf, before asking, “Are you and your man serious?”

I hesitate in responding. “I hope so. There are some…issues we’re working through right now.”

I haven’t heard from Luke today. That worries me. Maybe he’s given up. Maybe I’m too damn stubborn and this is too much work for him. After all, I’ve done nothing other than make the man constantly chase after me. I unconsciously push people away because I’m afraid of eventually being rejected. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve
always
done that. I’m doing it right now to Luke.

My God
…I suddenly see so many similarities between my mother and me and I don’t like them. Not one little bit. I don’t want to be lying in a hospital bed in the middle of my home without the people I love surrounding me, comforting me.

“I have regrets, Addy. Too many of them. I know it’s probably too late for motherly advice, but don’t follow in my footsteps. Live life to the fullest with no regrets, sweetie. Go after what you want, when you want, with the ferocity of a mother bear, because our life is but a blip on the radar before our time is up.”

My bitterness toward my mother is melting away with each word she speaks. She’s not perfect. She clearly went through things I’ll never know and they molded her into the person she is, like all of our own events do. Like mine did.

I am the woman I am today despite my mother, not because of her. I’m proud of who I’ve become, yet I have my own faults, my own imperfections, and apparently my own demons, which I’ve never acknowledged before. I need to let go of all my fears and put unconditional faith in someone.

And there’s only one person I want that to be.

The only thing I can think about is getting to Luke. It doesn’t matter what drove him away. What matters is that we love each other. And while I
can
live without Luke, I just don’t want to. He thinks I’m his light, his color, his air. He’s all those things to me and more. I need to talk to him before it’s too late, but I have no idea where he even is.

“Go to your man, Addy.”

“No. I—I just got here.”

She brings up her other shaky swollen hand, cupping my cheek. Her eyes are filled to the brim with salty water; mine are overflowing. “Go. Whatever’s wrong, make it right. Hold onto him tight with both hands and never let go. Then bring him to me so I can meet the man who put that sparkle in your eye before I have to leave.”

My gut feels like it’s being ripped from my insides. I nod, unable to speak. I wish we could have had these moments years ago. I wish I had more time to spend with my mother making good memories to replace the bad. I wish I had tried harder to mend our relationship before it was almost too late.

I kiss and hug my mom, sucking this moment in like a sponge, hoping like hell I’ll get another one.

“I love you, Adeline Catherine Monroe. So, so much,” she breathes in my ear.

I can count on one hand the number of times my mother has said those words to me. But at this second, I don’t care; for the first time in my life, I really
feel
them. “I love you, Mom,” I whisper on a broken sob.

After I leave, I just sit in my car. It’s quiet, except for my sobs of anguish with the realization that I’m going to lose my mother before I even get to know her. Eric couldn’t have been more right. I am overflowing with remorse right now.

I think back to all my failed relationships and my perception that no one ever put me first. Perhaps I still believe that’s true, but I also didn’t put them first either. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop…always waiting for them to decide they didn’t want me anymore or to figure out I wasn’t good enough.

But not one day in the last couple of months with Luke have I felt like that. From the time he busted into my apartment, he put me first. He’s always made me feel like I was wanted, like I was good enough. Like I was truly, deeply loved.

And I’m not going to let that feeling go. I’m not going to let
him
go.

Finally, I pull myself together and make a phone call. I have to get the love of my life back.

I hope it’s not too late.

W
hen I pull
up in the driveway that curves in front of my mom’s house, surprise and elation rush through me. I see her shitty little car before I see her sitting on the front porch steps and
my God
…she’s breathtaking.

Today she’s wearing a simple light blue sundress and sandals with straps that wrap around her ankles like a Roman goddess. Her dark hair is pulled off to the side, cascading down her right shoulder like a waterfall. She’s never looked more fucking beautiful. Ever.

She stands when she sees me approaching. I feel like I’m walking in slow motion, unable to get to her fast enough. When I get close, I see she’s been crying. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face tear streaked.

She looks sad. Lost.

Exactly like me.

“Hi,” I say quietly, stopping in front of her. She’s standing on the first step, which puts her at my exact height.

“Hi,” she replies just as softly.

Both of us are frozen, unmoving. Unsure. My heart is pounding and my fists are literally balls right now. I’m fighting every instinct in me that screams to yank her into my arms and tell her I’m not letting her go again, but I didn’t know she was coming and I don’t know why she’s here. Is it to say good-bye or that she’s as fucking miserable without me as I am without her?

I have to be honest…if it’s to say good-bye I think I’m gonna lose my shit. I will never accept that things are over between us.

“I didn’t know you were coming or I would have been here. My mom is out for the evening, I think. Have you been here long?” It’s just past six and since we’re in daylight savings, it’s still very light out.

“About an hour. Where were you?” she asks tentatively.

Fuck, I hate this awkwardness between us.

“I was at the cemetery. Visiting my father.” I’ve been there all afternoon. It was cathartic, actually. I didn’t sleep at all last night, replaying my childhood, my life, my decisions and I came to the conclusion that, while I wish they were different, things played out exactly the way they were supposed to for me.

Had I not gone down the path I did, I would never have been in a position to save Livia. She would have died. Gray would be dead inside, my nephews would be but a wish. Most importantly, I’d never have met Addy because I would never have met her brother.

My father’s selfless actions set a series of events into motion that would ultimately save and change the lives of so many. My biggest regret now is I’ll never get a chance to tell him that in person. But I told him today and I know he was listening. I told him all of it. It felt good. I was able to let go of a lot of the guilt I’ve carried for years. About him, about Livia, about the life I took that wasn’t mine to take. I know it will take time for it all to dissipate, but I already feel a lot lighter.

“I’m glad, Luke,” she replies sadly. “You look tired.”

“I am, fireball. I’m so fucking tired.”
I’m tired of being without you
.
I’m tired of fighting you, me, my beasts. I’m tired of doing it all alone.

My eyes lower to her neck where the pendant I gave her lays right below the hollow of her throat. I finger it, almost moaning at the feel of her warm skin underneath my pads. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and a light pink flush starts its ascent upward. When I sweep my gaze back up to her, she’s raptly watching my face, my reaction.

“You wore it,” I whisper.
God, why does that make me want to weep like a child?

“Yes.”

“Addy—”

Whatever I was going to say dissolves as a fog of lust settles thickly around us when she leans forward. Her lips touch mine, tentatively seeking, asking permission.

Permission fucking granted.

My restraint snaps, my animal nature taking over in unrestrained fury.

Claim.

Brand.

Own.

She is
mine
. She’ll always be mine and I’ll do or say anything she needs in order to make things right between us again.

Palming her nape, I deepen the kiss. I invade, I dominate, I take. I tell her with every sweep of my tongue how much I’ve ached without her, how much my heart hurts with love for her, and how I can’t possibly live another second without her in my life. Our breaths and moans and sighs mingle until we’re creating our own sweet symphony.

With my other hand, I pull her body flush with mine, pressing my now stiff cock into her lower belly. The need to sink inside her wet heat this instant is so intense, I want to strip her naked and fuck her right where we stand. I could. No one would see. Instead, I lift her so her long legs wrap around me. Carrying her up the remaining five stairs, I have no choice but to leave the warmth of her mouth as I fumble for the house keys.

Her lips don’t leave me. They travel all over my jaw and my neck. Her teeth nibble my ear, making my cock furious that he’s not inside her yet. Her hands never stop roaming and my tee is already halfway up my torso in her quest to rid me of my clothes as fast as she can.

Once inside, I slam the door shut and her up against the wall before reaching under her dress. I rip off the panties she’s wearing, dropping them to the tile floor. Then my fingers are plunging inside of her, my thumb circling her already hardened nub. She’s so wet, so tight and feels so fucking good, I think I could come from this alone.

I
always
think of Addy first. I always make sure she comes before I release, several times, in fact, but I’ve been outside of her for too many days in a row now that if I don’t fuck her this instant, I will most undoubtedly embarrass myself.

“I need to fuck you, fireball. Right now. Right here.”

“God, yes, Luke. Please. I ache so much without you.”

In seconds, my jeans are around my ankles and I’m driving brutally inside of her.

It’s rough.

It’s passionate.

It’s fucking bliss.

The instant I feel her wrapped around my cock, all my suffering for the last two weeks melts away.

“Look at me,” I command. I need her eyes. I need to see into her soul. I need my light, my
color
. I’ve fucking missed my color so damn much.

I haven’t been able to touch my cock in weeks, so the last time I got off was the night Grant and Cash were born. Already feeling the tingling in my balls, I know our race to rapture will be lightning fast, but it’s only the first of many tonight. The only way my cock will be outside of his rightful place for the next twelve hours is if she begs me to stop.

“I love you, Addy. So much. So damn much.”

“I…love…you,” she replies brokenly between forceful thrusts. “Harder. Please.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” I pump with intent now, harder, faster, rougher. My thighs burn and sweat covers me, but it’s all worth it when I feel her slick, velvety walls clamp down on my cock, taking me over the edge with her. We both plummet headfirst into one hell of an intense orgasm, crying out the other’s name in sheer joy. Her entire body shakes. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed feeling her shudder in my arms and breathe my name.

I continue to hold her up against the wall as we catch our breaths. I scatter kisses across every inch of flesh I can reach while staying firmly planted inside her. I’m already growing hard again. With every touch of my lips, I whisper, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. She holds me tight, fingers feathering my spine, whispering back, “It’s okay.”

I need to feel her completely. Skin on skin. I need her slow and soft. I need to swallow her whimpers and moans of ecstasy. I need to know she’s mine again, forever.

Wordlessly, I carry her up the stairs and into my room. I strip her and divest myself of my own clothes before crawling on the bed, taking her in my arms and making unhurried, sweet love to her until we’re both exhausted and sore.

I know I need to apologize for my epic screwup. I know we have a lot of talking to do and I’m certainly not looking forward to telling her about her sister. All that can wait until later. Right now, I tug her as close as I possibly can, entwining our limbs so she can’t escape and allowing myself to truly relax for the first time in over two weeks.

“I’m never letting you go,” I mumble as darkness pulls me under. I don’t want to follow, but I’m so damn tired I’m helpless against her call.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me now. Sleep, baby,” she encourages. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I do let go then, falling asleep with my woman in my arms, a smile on my face, and blissful peace in my very soul. I’ve never felt more content.