Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12), Mari Carr [motivational books for men .TXT] 📗

Her gaze slid to Oliver. “With him?”

“What do you want?” Gavin asked, refusing to share any details of his personal life with her.

“I missed you, Gavin,” she said, her voice betraying how close she was to tears. The uncharitable part of him wondered if they were genuine or her attempt at manipulating his emotions.

He silently hoped she managed to control them. Her crying had been his undoing too many times. She’d wake up the morning after losing her temper, take one look at his cuts, burns, and bruises, and fall apart, crying, hugging him, telling him she was sorry, and swearing she’d never hurt him again.

Maybe he should have spent some time on Lauren’s psychology couch and asked her what it was about him that made him feel like he had to provide comfort to his abuser in those moments, because that was the part he was struggling with now. He’d hated to see her sad, so he’d forgiven her—time after time—and said he loved her, that it was all okay.

Oliver remained quiet, but Gavin felt him shifting just a tiny bit closer, letting him know subtly that he was there for him.

“Mom—” he started, desperate to cut this reunion short. Seeing her, on the heels of losing everything in the fire, and after this weekend with Erin and Oliver, was simply too much. He was on emotion overload.

She must have heard the dismissal in his voice because she cut him off. “I know I don’t have the right to ask…to…”

Oliver scoffed. It was quiet, but it was enough to throw his mother off.

Gavin glanced at his foster brother and shook his head, just once. Oliver frowned, but he remained quiet.

“What do you want?” Gavin asked again, and the pain that question caused felt a bit like he was pulling a stake from his heart.

She visibly swallowed, then cleared her throat. “I was hoping to get to know you again. To spend time with you. And…” She glanced at Oliver. “Maybe your foster brother.” He heard the question in her voice. No doubt she’d witnessed he and Oliver both kissing Erin a few minutes ago. “And your girlfriend?”

Now she was outright fishing. But he wasn’t going to give her anything. To do so would be opening a door, giving her hope for something he…

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated with himself because damn if he wasn’t feeling it. That first horrible spark of hope.

Hope that she’d changed.

That this time would be different.

That she’d finally be a true mother.

What the fuck?

Why was all of that still there? He knew better.

Or…he should know better.

He felt Oliver’s hand on his lower back. He was shocked that a gentle touch could have such a powerful impact. He stiffened his spine.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Gavin inwardly groaned. It was a shitty response, one that left way too much wiggle room.

“I understand,” she said. This time, the words were completely broken and tears began to slide down her face.

Gavin fought to take a breath, even as he felt the walls closing in on him. Oliver’s hand fisted in his shirt, another sign that he was there for him.

“I know I hurt you. I don’t know why I grabbed that knife.”

The knife? That was what she remembered as the bad part?

Gavin waited for some reaction from Oliver, but his foster brother stayed silent.

“I shouldn’t…have come here. I just…wanted…to tell you…how sorry I am. For all of it. You’re…all I have, Gavin. All I have in the world.” Her words were now coming out in panting breaths, staggered by stuttered sobs.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out her face, her words. How many times had she told him that before? Reminded him, guilted him, made sure he knew he was her whole world. He was it. The kid in him always fell for it, always let those words excuse her rages because he knew they were true. And because it had made him feel like his life had a purpose. Because to one person, he was the center of the universe.

When he opened his eyes, he truly let himself see her. Not through the eyes of a kid but as a man.

“You have family,” he said. Gavin had been surprised to discover he had a grandmother and an aunt—both living in different states—the first time Margie had come to remove him from his mother’s care when he’d been seven years old. He hadn’t met either of them because neither had been willing to take him in. At the time, he’d been furious with them, but after too many years at the hands of a sociopath, he could almost understand why they’d want to keep their distance from Cecilia Hawke. He couldn’t wrap his head around leaving a defenseless child in her care, but he knew enough to understand that even cracking a door open to his mother left a person at risk.

His mother blinked a few times in surprise. He’d never told her he knew about them.

“Yes, but…I…they threw me out, they wouldn’t help me—us—they left us alone to survive, Gavin. Never sending money, never offering anything.”

“Listen—” he started, but once again, she forged on.

“Please, Gavin. Please! I just want to talk to you. Get to know you again. Maybe dinner? Just one night. That’s all, I swear. One night, and I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want.” Then, because she was a master when it came to pushing all the right buttons, she added, “It’s the holidays. It’s just so hard…this time of year…to be by myself. I’ve missed so many Christmases with you.”

Gavin studied her face as a million different feelings crashed in on him at once. He glanced over at Oliver, certain his foster brother was busting at the seams, ready to read him the riot act for even considering her request.

What he saw on his best friend’s face proved Gavin was wrong.

Oliver gave him