The Hunter (Boston Belles 1) - Page 115

She led me briskly to her private room—not the bedroom she sometimes shared with Da. She nodded. “I do. But you are just as important as they are, sweetie.”

I said nothing to that, because I still didn’t believe it. After we got in, she closed the door and took a seat behind her desk. I didn’t even know why she had an office. It’s not like she’d worked a day in her life.

I remained standing. I didn’t have time. “Get it over with and give me the keys to the private jet.”

“Private jets don’t have a k—”

“It’s a figure of speech.” I smiled. “Talk, Mother.”

She shook her head, looking down at her fingers, which were splashed on the table.

“I know you’re mad at me, Hunter, and for good reason. I had you illegitimately to get back at your father, then sent you away when you were six. You have every right in the world to despise me. But honey, you must understand. I wasn’t a terrible mother to you. I was a terrible mother, period. When I found out I was pregnant with you…” She sucked in a breath and looked the other way, shaking her head, like the memory was too much.

If this was her plan to make shit better, she was doing a terrible job.

“It was the happiest moment of my life. Would you like to know why?”

Not really. “Sure,” I groaned instead. Anything to make her give me the goddamn Gulfstreamer.

She looked up at me, her eyes shining. “Because you, I knew I’d love the most. I was crazy in love with your father—your real father—but Filip never loved me back. In fact, he ran back to Croatia when he realized I was going to leave Gerald for him. Your father paid him handsomely to disappear, I assume. But you were my lovechild, Hunter. Still are. You were the only one of my children I breastfed, that I nurtured until you were three.”

“Wow. I’m humbled,” I said sarcastically. I didn’t understand where she was going with this.

“But…” She held up a hand. “I struggled with a lot of things, severe depression among them. I stayed in bed for weeks at a time. Sometimes your father would drag me out, and we’d have violent fights. I tore out his hair one time. Another, I broke his rib. I wasn’t fit to be a mother, so sending you away before you saw all that seemed like the only option.”

“And bring Aisling into the world,” I reminded her. “That was important, too. Fuck up one more kid.”

“Aisling was my apology for Filip.”

“Damn, that sounds bad.” I sucked my teeth.

She jumped from her seat, running to me. Every bone in my body turned to ice. Even when she stopped a few inches away. Even when she began to lower herself to her knees.

“Dammit, Hunter, I cannot tolerate this anymore. You have to forgive me.”

“Or else?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets. I forgot, momentarily, that I had my asshole family to save. I was so immersed in my mother’s attempt to patch things up.

She looked up, on her knees in front of me. “Or I’m not giving you the Gulfstreamer.”

“Your husband and son will die,” I said slowly, examining her.

She really was insane. She smiled at me, her eyes full of tears. It was a sad, broken smile, that of a person who has nothing left to lose.

“You’re killing me every day you don’t take my calls. Please.” She lowered her face to my sneakers. Jesus Christ. Was she going to…oh, fuck. She was. She was going to kiss my feet. I couldn’t take it. Couldn’t see the person who’d purged me out into the world losing the remainder of her pride.

“Get up,” I roared, yanking her by the shoulder. “I forgive you.”

“Really?” She was bawling now.

“Yes, really. The apology was a fucking mess, but it is obvious it’s important to you. Now, please, for the love of God, Mom, send the Gulfstreamer.”

“It’s already warmed up and waiting for you in the gang hanger. Oh, I love you, Hunt.”

I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her, patting her head awkwardly. “Yeah, Mom. Love you, too.”

My last stop before boarding the plane to Maine was the Brennan residence. Sailor lived in a high-rise with her parents, so honking for her to come down wasn’t in the cards. I had to drag my ass to her door.

She opened, looking alert, like it wasn’t two in the morning. She’d been waiting for me.

“Well?” Her eyes widened in anticipation.

“You told your dad. You’ve never asked him for this kind of favor.”

“I had to help you in some way,” she said quietly.

I knew how much it had cost her, how much it wounded her sense of who she was, and vowed to make it up to her.

Tags: L.J. Shen Boston Belles Romance
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