Damn that woman!

I pounded the steering wheel as the words repeated over and over in my head. I knew I should have ignored the phone when Derek called. And worse, I knew I shouldn't have agreed to help when he asked if I was available to help him moved some of Maggie's belongings to their new house. Not because I was such an ass that I wouldn't help someone, especially family, but because I knew Grace would be there.

I thought I was strong enough to handle seeing her. After all, it had been a couple of weeks since I'd seen her. Never one to linger over a breakup, I thought for sure she'd lose her magnetic pull on me. Not that we'd had a relationship to break up. I'd thought it was a sexual attraction that would go away if I sought other relief. But not one name that I thought to call came with any accompanying enthusiasm. Ever since I'd met Grace, my hand had seen more action than it had as a teenager, and all to thoughts of her.

As I pulled away from Derek and Maggie's house, I thought about going into the office and working. I thought about going home and getting drunk. I did neither. Instead, I did what any lost boy would do.

Twenty minutes later, my mother pulled me into one of her hugs. "Well, hi, Son. This is a surprise. What brings you by?"

For such a small thing, she was exceptionally strong, both physically and emotionally. I guessed after all that she'd been through, she'd had plenty of reasons to flex her abilities. Often, I pulled away within seconds, but this time I held on longer, absorbing her warmth and love like the starved child I felt like.

Her hand rested on my cheek, and her eyes darted across my face as if she were taking inventory of my soul through my eyes.

"Come on in, baby. I've got sweet tea and fresh cookies. Or maybe something stronger is in order."

I smiled. It was one of the good memories I had of growing up. We didn't have a lot, but my mom always insisted on having something freshly baked in the house, usually some kind of cookie, depending on what she had available. I think baking was an outlet for her. She didn't have the fancy mixer then that I made sure she had now. Instead, I think she kneaded, folded, and blended by hand as a way of working out her stress. Then she always took time to sit at the table with me along with her freshly made treat and a cup of cold milk and talked to me about whatever I wanted.

She still liked to bake, only now neighbors and a homeless shelter were the recipients, and the milk had been replaced with adult beverages—tea or whiskey—depending on the time of day.

"Talk to me," she commanded after we'd settled at the kitchen table. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you think something's wrong?"

She frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Mother's intuition, fueled by you showing up unannounced, on a Saturday, no less." She reached out and wiggled my cheek. Besides," she crooned teasingly, "this handsome mug looks more serious than usual, and that's saying something."

I jerked my head away and swatted at her hand, but she had managed to draw a smile from me with her playful gesture.

I made a pile of crumbs out of the cookie in front of me while I thought about what to say. Between Grace and Noah, I felt like I'd been through the ringer of advice and psychoanalysis. And while I wanted to call 'foul' on what they had to say, deep down I knew there were kernels of truth to their thoughts. Big, fat kernels that were popping all around me in the heat of reality.

"Do you ever regret marrying Dad?"

Her glass paused halfway to her mouth. "Wow," she said, putting the glass down without drinking. "That came out of nowhere." Her eyes honed in on me. "Or did it?"

I pushed harder. "I mean, if you knew you'd only have a short time together would you have done it anyway?"

Mom drew a circle through the drops of condensation on the table the pitcher had left. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she pondered my question. Finally, she looked up at me. "What is this really about, Jax?"

I should have known she wouldn't give me a direct answer. Throughout my life, she'd ask questions, helping me see through all possible sides, but rarely did she tell me what to do or give me a straight answer if she thought I needed to resolve something on my own.

Blowing out a breath, I mumbled, "I met someone. A woman I like. A lot."

Shit. Could I sound any more like a teenager?

I could see the interest and a hundred questions light up her face, but she was smart enough to reign them in. "That's wonderful, Jax. What does this have to do with your dad?"

It was a legitimate question, and hearing it out loud made me question it, too. "I don't know," I mumbled. "It was something stupid Noah said to me recently."

She nodded, but didn't comment, waiting patiently for me to continue.

"Noah thinks I don't have normal relationships with women because I'm afraid it will end badly, and I don't want to get hurt. He thinks I deliberately date women who I know I won't get attached to."

God, even to my ears it sounded pathetic. Why had I started this conversation? I stood up and took my plate and glass to the sink.

"You know, never mind. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's stupid."

Mom wasn't disturbed by my peevish tone. "No, I don't think it is. Do you think he might be right?"

I leaned against the sink and crossed my arms. "Maybe," I admitted. "And it's no secret I don't trust easily after everything that happened." Even years later, bringing up this topic made me want to come out of my skin.

She nodded. "And now you've found someone who makes you want more than short-term?"

Did I mention my mom was smart? I shrugged. "Maybe? She's warm and generous and makes me laugh. She's not afraid to call me on my bullshit." My mom smiled at that; she knew I wasn't the easiest to get along with. "She's the real thing, not just some fling. But I'm not sure I can honestly try anything serious, and that's what she wants. What she deserves."

"I see." She leaned back in her chair. "Jax, let me ask you a question. Is it her you don't trust? Or is it yourself?"

Her question momentarily stumped me. "I..."

"You're used to making decisions on a daily basis. What's different about this? Why do you hesitate?"

"It's not the same. I have all of the control in my business decisions, and I never go into a venture if I don't think I can win and come out ahead."

Mom raised an eyebrow at me.

Well damn. Once again, my mom guided me to an 'aha' moment. The win-loss ratio in a relationship couldn't be determined ahead of time. Relationships were about yielding control, at least some of it. To let Grace, or anyone, into my life meant letting them have an investment in it. In business terms, it was like a profit or loss; she could either be good for me or hurt me. And that was a risk I'd have to take if I wanted to keep Grace on more than just the periphery of my life.

So will she, dumbass. And she's the one who would be taking a bigger chance on you. If she'd even give you another chance after you were such an ass to her!

As if she could read my mind, my mom stood and walked to me. She clasped my face in her hands. "You have to ask yourself which is the greater loss—having her or not having her? You've closed yourself off to so many people, Jaxson. I understand why, but for what it's worth, I think you're giving your past way too much control over your future. You deserve to be happy, Son. If you've found someone who helps you get there, don't you owe it to yourself to give it a try?"

I clasped her hands. "I don't want to hurt her, either. I'm afraid I will. I don't know how to do this."

To my surprise, tears whelmed up in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, clutching my face harder. "Yes, you do. We both know you don't let many people in, but when you do, you are incredibly loyal and generous. You love hard, Jaxson, and you love deeply, even putting your own needs aside."

"If it doesn't work out, it could get awkward. We have mutual friends. And family."

"Is it Grace Hart?"

See? Smart.

"Yeah."

Mom smiled. "I thought it might be. Aunt Julie and I noticed you each giving the other some sideways glances at Maggie and Derek's wedding. Julie told me later that Anne had noticed it, too. I can't think of a better family than them, Jax. Those girls have been raised to be strong and independent, but they're kind and sweet. We were hoping you two might spend some time together."

"You know, you weren't as subtle at Anne's house as you thought you were."

She laughed. "Seems you didn't need us after all."

I pulled my mom in for a hug, amazed at how much wisdom she had. "I love you, Mom."

She pulled back. Eyes that were an older version of mine grew soft with emotion. "I love you, too, sweetheart. For what it's worth, yes, I would have married your dad even knowing our time would be limited, knowing how much pain there would be when he was taken from me, from us. Because that pain meant the love in our relationship was true. And I'd rather live with that pain than the emptiness of never having had his love at all. He was a great man, and any time I had with him was a blessing. I want the same for you."

She must have seen the doubt in my expression. "You can have it, Jaxson." Her hands rubbed my upper arms. "Think about this. You like to work out. Why?"

"To keep in shape. To stay strong and fit."

"Exactly. When you work out, you're tearing down the muscle and rebuilding it to get stronger. The heart is a muscle, too. Letting your heart love will keep it growing and gaining strength in ways you can't imagine. Even broken hearts heal and gain strength. But unexercised hearts never have the chance to grow and be made stronger."

Her analogy made sense and struck a chord with me that I think I'd been searching for without knowing it. But...

"What about when you met Gene?" I struggled to keep my face neutral.

She sighed and sat back down at the table. I did the same, watching her carefully on the delicate subject. "That's a more complex answer. Over the years, I've thought a lot about that, struggled with my own guilt for bringing him into our lives."

I gripped her hand across the table. "No, Mom, it wasn't you."

She held tight to my hand. "The truth is, while I regret what happened"—she squeezed my hand when I started to interrupt—"the falling in love again, the taking a chance, yes, it was part of that growth I spoke about. It was freeing to know I was capable of those feelings again. But the pain that it brought you, well, I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself of that."

I shook my head. "You shouldn't feel guilty, Mom. There's only one, maybe two, people who should feel guilty about what happened. It wasn't your fault, any more than it was mine." My eyes burned at the emotions that bubbled to the surface. It had been a long time since my mom and I had talked about her second marriage—and the reason for its failure. "But there's someone who I think would like you to take a chance yet again."

Her forehead wrinkled in bemusement. "Who?"

"John. He told me he asked you out to dinner. I'm pretty sure he did it for reasons other than just to catch up."

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh."

"You have to promise me you'll be open to your feelings without worrying about me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a little boy anymore. I like John. He's a good man, and I respect that he informed me he was taking you to dinner since my mother didn't." I added my last point with a firm stare.

"I wasn't sure if it might be more than dinner between friends, but I do like him. We’ve been out a couple of times," she said shyly. "And you're wrong. You might be a grown man, but you'll always be my boy, and I'll always worry about you." She grinned. "Although I might worry less if you had a good woman who treated you the way you deserve, not like those slut puppies I know you hang out with. I hear from Ellie what kind of women slink their way into your office."

"Mom! Really?"

"What? What are they calling them these days? Skanks? I think that's what Ellie called them."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I really need to fire Ellie," I mumbled.

My mom laughed.

Later as I left her house, the conversation replayed itself over and over in my mind. For much of my life, I'd fought to control my feelings, fought for control in all things. I thought it was my only way to find happiness. And for a while, it had been. All this time I structured my life like my business, minimizing liabilities and potential losses. Now I wondered if I had more to gain by yielding. It had taken the gentle strength of Grace to make me want to take the risk.

A sense of determination flowed through me as I left my mom's house. It lasted all the way until that evening when I decided to go to the bar where I knew I'd find Grace.