Both of her hands leap to her chest. "A fire?"
I could leave it at that and the conversation would be over. It was a tragic death by anyone's standards but more so because her only child refused to help her and left her alone, in a house that was falling apart at the seams with a full bottle of vodka, a package of cigarettes and a lighter.
I nod as I bow my head. "I went to see that afternoon. I took her to a store to get her some food. She wanted that and more."
"More?" Her brows rise. "What do you mean?"
"I gave her everything she needed to set that house ablaze. I gave her every reason not to live."
She stands and takes two large steps until she's in my lap. Her arms wrap around my neck as she presses her cheek to mine. "Don't do that, Crew. Don't blame yourself."
I tuck her closer to me, needing her strength to get the words out. "I hired someone to track her down. They found her in Kentucky."
She nods. "You went to see her?"
"I surprised her." I had to. The woman didn't own a phone. She was renting the house and barely getting by. "She had no idea who I was."
"She must have been in shock."
"She was." I squeeze her closer. "I told her I was her son and she looked at me. She saw the resemblance then. I saw it immediately when she opened the door."
"What happened then?" Her voice is strong and calm. She's everything I'm not right now.
"I offered to buy her dinner but she wanted food from the grocery store, so we went. I had a rental car."
She runs her fingers through my hair. "You took her home after that?"
Swallowing hard, I go on. "We had bags of food and a bottle of cheap booze. I got her the cigarettes she wanted and the lighter she needed."
She taps my shoulder. "I understand."
She does, but she doesn't. It's not as simple as a person dropping a lit cigarette onto a tattered old chair when they're in a drunken haze.
"I asked what else I could do to help her." I stop to kiss her shoulder. She let me dress her in one of my T-shirts and my sweatpants after we made love. I pulled on a pair too before I brought her out here.
"What did she say?" She pulls back to look at me.
"Money. She wanted money."
There's no surprise in her expression. How could there be? I wasn't shocked by the request when it left my birth mother's lips. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her I'd arrange for her to fly back to New York to enter a treatment facility." I look over at my kitchen, where I keep my courage in an aged bottle of scotch that I'm craving. "I promised her a job and a place to live if she cleaned herself up."
Her hand finds my face. "She didn't want that."
"She didn't want that or me," I correct her. "She told me that I should be grateful that she didn't terminate her pregnancy and that she deserved everything I owned for having to put up with me for three years. Then she threw me out and told me to go to hell."
Tears well in the corners of her beautiful blue eyes. "That's so wrong. It's so wrong."
"She died that night," I say matter-of-factly. "In a fire set by a lit cigarette that had fallen onto the chair she was sitting in."
"That's not on you, Crew. You gave her a chance. She didn't take it."
I know she's right. Nolan has drilled the same words into my brain for years. I held out a hand to the woman who gave me life, she slapped it away and wishing it was different, won't make it so.
Chapter 46
Adley