Apparently, we now only talk at night, because today is as awkward as yesterday. Only yesterday was better because I woke up with Maura in my arms as opposed to the empty bed I woke up to today.

The house is flooded with people. It seems like the entire neighborhood has stopped by to check in and see how we’re holding up. And they all brought food.

Both my mother and Aaron have taken turns crying in their rooms today. Now it’s Aaron’s turn, so I’m standing in the hallway between the living room and kitchen, ready to play interference between my mom and the many guests coming in and out if need be.

I’ve been alternating between staring out the back door and at the various family pictures hanging on the wall across from me.

The back door is winning for the moment.

Maura’s been sitting outside in the backyard for the past few hours, curled up in a lawn chair with Rae by her side. I have no idea what she’s thinking or what they’re talking about. All I know is I’ve seen her smile twice, and each time I got jealous because I wasn’t the one to make her do so. Stupid, I know. But now, I’d give anything for her to smile at me like she was less than forty-eight hours ago.

I jump when a cold hand touches my arm. Tearing my gaze from the sliding glass door, I find my mom standing beside me. She leans up against the wall in a similar position to the one I’m standing in.

With the alcohol addiction and wild child days, my mother has always appeared older than she truly is. But since yesterday morning, I swear she’s aged about five more years. Her normally sunny blonde hair is streaked with grey, and her deep brown eyes seem almost black. A plain white t-shirt and jeans are hanging off her already thin frame, which is far thinner than I’m used to seeing. She looks so heartbroken, desolate, lost. I’ve never seen her this bad before, and I guess that’s fair because she’s never lost a child before.

Losing a child changes you. Drastically.

“I’m sorry, Tucker,” she tells me in a cracked voice.

Staring at the wall across from me, I ask, “For what, Ma?”

“I’m sorry that you love her.”

My head whips toward her, taken aback. “What the fuck?”

She smacks my arm. “First, don’t curse at me. I may be a shitty one, but I am still your mother. Second, it’s written clear as a summer day all over your face. I’ve been where you are, loving someone you’re not supposed to. It changes a person.” Then she grins. “Plus, the walls are thin in this house, Tucker, and you’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

I blush and start mumbling my way through a half-assed apology.

My mom gives a small laugh that brings a smile to my face. I haven’t seen her laugh in such a long time that I’m willing to smile when it’s on my behalf.

“It’s okay,” she assures me. “Not something I ever wanted to hear, but it’s okay. You love her, and if her sad state today is any indication, she loves you too. But…”

I groan. “Why is there always a but?”

“But this changes things for you both. Maybe you do need to take time apart. Maybe you need to find who you are as a couple outside of Tanner.” She sniffles at his name. “And his death.”

Considering the past my mom has had, I’ve always tended to stray from her advice. But the shit she just spewed makes sense. It’s something I think I may need to seriously consider.

“Thanks, Ma.” We’re quiet a moment before I say, “I’m sorry, too.”

“What for?”

“For Tanner. I’m sorry it wasn’t me.”

Her mouth drops open and tears instantly stream down her face. She starts shaking, barely able to hold herself up. As she’s about to fall to the ground, I catch her, wrapping her up in my arms.

“Ma? Are you okay?” I ask, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

“How could you say that?” she cries into my shirt. She pulls back and peers up at me. “Tucker, you’re my world. I know I’ve been shit at showing it, but I love you more than you could ever know.”

Don’t get me wrong, I know my mother loves me. However, over the years, it’s always seemed like she somehow loved me less. But something about the way she says it now seems like so much more.

“I want you to understand something, Tucker Cameron Bentley. You…you’re my pride and joy. You represent a time in my life that I’m not proud of but am infinitely grateful for. I was happy for only a moment in time, and in the end, I got you. That’s something that will make me happy for a lifetime. I promise you, Tucker, I love you, and I’m so glad it wasn’t you too.” She grabs my face between her hands. “God. You look so much like him. You have his eyes and his personality. I was always so happy you didn’t get mine.”

I stare at her, unsure of what I heard. I always thought she was ashamed of me, not proud. There are a million things running through my mind, and I’m not sure which one to grab on to first. She loves me, she’s proud of me, she’s glad I’m alive. Those things are enough for me.

She’s staring at me still.

Wrapping her back up in my arms and squeezing her tightly, I say, “I love you too, Mom. Thank you.”

“Now go do what I should have done many, many years ago. Be happy, Tucker. You deserve it.”

With that, she releases she me and walks back down the hallway like she was never there.

I look back out the window at the girl I’m madly in love with but ready to let go if that’s what is going to bring us closer in the end. I need to let her find herself, and I need to find myself.

Taking a deep breath, I head out the back door.

“Can you talk?”

Maura glances over shoulder at me and gives a singular nod.

“I’ll…uh…I’ll just go…um…somewhere,” Rae stutters, walking toward the gate on the side of the house. “Call me, Maura,” she yells, and then she disappears.

I take a seat on the other lawn chair and fold my hands between my spread legs, staring at the ground. We don’t say anything for several moments. I look up when I hear her begin to shuffle around. She’s sitting in the same way I am, watching me.

“I have this theory in life that when two people are meant to be together, you always find your way to one another. Sometimes the timing is off, but if it’s truly meant to be, it will happen. You’ll both sacrifice things and work together—or apart—to make it happen. That’s the way true love works to me.” I pause to gauge her reaction so far. There isn’t much of one, so I continue. “I know last night you said you wanted time apart. I’m willing to do it. I think it may be best for us. Maybe give us a chance to find ourselves.”

She lets out a heavy breath. “I agree.”

“Good,” I say. “So how about this. How about we don’t set a time limit on this. Let’s say that one day, we’ll know when we’re ready, and we’ll see where we are then. If it’s meant to be, we’ll make it work.”

“I think that sounds fair.”

I close my eyes briefly. I’m losing her. I know deep down I’m not permanently losing her, but I’m still losing her, and it still hurts.

“So, I guess this is it then.”

A ghost of a smile touches her lip as she quietly says, “For now.”

Hope fills my heart and for the first time in a long time, I welcome it.

Laughing softly, I give my head a shake. “I can’t help but think of that saying. ‘If you love someone, set them free.’” Holding her gaze, I say, “I love you, ya know.”

She doesn’t move or blink. She stares back and says, “I love you, too.”