Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Hope may not accept me, but I know she’s the only woman for me. And I don’t want something as filthy as my mother or my past reaching out and grabbing for her or me any longer. Some baggage has to finally be discarded.
I wish I didn’t feel this way about my mother. My therapist told me I should be grateful to her, to some degree, for bringing me into this world. But I’m not. She never treated me like a son, only a problem. And just like she kicked me out of her life when I was fourteen, I’ll now do the same to her.
When I step outside the apartment building, she immediately jumps into my path, blocking me from getting to my car. She drops to her knees. “Please. Please,” she begs.
I’m sick of being the one to dictate who is good and bad. Teddy deserves to be in prison even if I don’t know what crime he’s been picked up for this time. I can’t protect or save everyone. In fact, I’m the furthest thing from a hero—if you don’t count my last name.
“It’s not going to happen, Mother.” I shove my hands in my coat pockets, speaking my truth. “I hope they kill him in jail. I hope that one day when you’re standing at his funeral, it registers what a fucking lowlife he is and everything he’s done to cause you harm. I also hope one day you realize how you have no right to come to me for help when the only time you’ve ever lifted your hand was to beat me instead of help me. You don’t get to come here pretending to be a victim because your supplier’s been imprisoned. Tell me, is it the fact that Teddy’s gone to jail that hurts most, or because you’ve run out of your stash and don’t know who to go to now?”
Her expression morphs from desperate to angry as she stands and lifts her hand. I catch her frail wrist as she attempts to slap me across the face. “You ungrateful piece of shit. How dare you speak so little of me,” she snarls.
“It’s an offense to hit a police officer,” I tell her.
“I am your mother.”
“You lost that title a long time ago.” I push her hand away and step around her.
“What, you think you’re better than me because you have some fancy apartment and live in the city? Fucking useless. You always have been!” she seethes. “Think because you can impress some rich little princess that you’ve forgotten your roots!”
I turn then and take two steps back toward her. She cowers, her face stricken with fear, and it embodies everything I hate. That she lashes out, but she’s so used to men who hit her and beat her as if she’s no better than a dog. It makes me feel dirty. I would never hit her or any other woman.
“I suggest you leave. Move away from that trailer park before people start coming for money. If you don’t, I might lock you up with him myself.” I have no intention of seeing my mother ever again after this, but I know whatever business Teddy is involved with isn’t the kind that will go away with him. Especially if he’s still dealing like my previous reports indicated.
She seems to think on it for a second before she takes a step back and spits at me. I knew I would never have a relationship with this woman, but this just confirms it. I hate her. Even calling her “mother” is an insult to those who are real mothers.
And although I might not know what that type of love feels like, I’ve met a woman who’s shown me just how a woman can step into their own power.
It’s a choice.
My mother will never grow or change, and I simply can’t accept who she is.
Or I can, but now it’s my choice to leave her behind.
I turn and walk to my car.
No father.
No mother.
Up until a few months ago, I had no person to keep me connected to this world. Well, no one who was important enough for me to take their secrets to the grave.
But now there’s one.
And she ran away from me as quickly as her feelings for me began to rear their ugly heads.
Maybe I’m unlovable. Though I’m certain she and I share our own form of love.
Obsessive.
Conflicting.
Irreplaceable.
Hope Ivanov will be mine if it’s the last fucking thing I do in this world.
CHAPTER 39
Hope
By the third day, the bruises have started to turn yellow. My mother came into my bedroom after I’d showered one morning, and I’d accidentally walked out wrapped only in a towel. When I noticed, I literally was in such a rush to close the bathroom door that I slipped and awkwardly landed on my hip, causing another bruise. But crisis averted.