Untimely Love (Book 3)

♠Chapter 8♠

♠CHRIS♠

I couldn't do it. Being civil. I tried and I couldn't.

Granted I only saw her for a second and left the room before the cap burst and things spiraled for everyone, but still... I physically could not stand her being here. After everything that happened, not just between us but in this house. It's hard enough looking at every surface and space and remembering a time where she was perched there laughing or smiling or just being.

I came to the kitchen the same time my mom did. I was fine then until I saw how much ice she was adding to a tall glass and tried to joke about it. It was amusing because she doesn't usually get ice. Until she said it was for her.

And that's when the conversation started.

"Did she have to be here all the time?"

"Did she have to be here when I was here?"

"I don't want her here."

"I don't want to see her."

Then she blew up. My mom shouted at me. It was so sudden that I jumped. I could count on one hand the number of times she'd ever raised her voice at me my whole life and all those times I understood. But for this?

"I'm trying to understand this," she said, her fingers pressing against the spot between her eyes. "But how am I supposed to warn you both if you don't tell me when you're coming home?" Her voice had gone softer but had an irritated undertone that made me sit up straighter, balling my fists against my thighs. "I am not getting in the middle of whatever you two have going on but no one wants to tell me what the problem is."

"Mom, you're already in the middle!" My voice came out louder than I expected but I dropped it with my next words. "I live here, why do I need to tell you when I'm coming home?"

She tilted her head back, exasperated. "Because I'm helping her get into a college that's specific and picky when it comes to admitting new students. You know that. You had everything from before you even knew what you wanted to do, Ariana doesn't. She's new to this and everything she needs is here. It's nothing personal, Christian, so stop thinking that it is."

I laughed, running my hands down my face. I turned away from her, propping my elbows on the surface of the kitchen island and running my hands through my hair.

I was tired of this. Tired of feeling like I'm always second to her in everything. My family, my friends... Why the hell do I even come back here anyway? Everything's always my fault, but I guess that's on me. I could easily just tell them and they'd understand where my anger is coming from, why I can't even stand to look at her even though that's all I wanted to do. But then they'd look at her differently, and that's the last thing I wanted. Funnily enough, I didn't want to ruin her. I never want that and I never will. But it would be nice to have someone on my side without a needed explanation. My mother would've been a nice start.

"Fine," I said, my voice low and hoarse. My nose burned and I cleared my throat, inhaling deeply. "Fine," I repeated. I turned back to my mother, something inside me twisting and turning over on itself with my resolve.

"Everything okay?" Renard's voice came from the entrance of the kitchen but I didn't turn to acknowledge him.

"What's wrong?" my mom said, her tone desperate. She strode over and held my face in her hands. "Tell me what's wrong, Christian."

That somehow made it worse—made something inside me crack and shudder—because she shouldn't need an explanation. If she sees how much this is affecting me, why should I have to explain myself for her to be there for me?