Because I Love You (21 page)

My pulse raced as I took a seat across from her. “Is everything okay?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.” Mom tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth only twitched.

I frowned. I’d learned Mom’s tells enough to know she was lying. Why was she dodging my question?

“How was your weekend at Jill’s?” she tried to change the subject.

“Fine. Did something happen?” I pried.

Mom stared at her hands, and my stomach sank. She stood and dumped the rest of her tea down the kitchen sink.

“I guess you might as well know the truth. You’re going to find out anyway.” She sighed before opening a drawer and pulling out a piece of paper she’d obviously hidden.

I took it from her when she returned to the table.

My body turned to ice.
An eviction notice?
Mom had never given the impression her job at the university wasn’t enough to make ends meet. But the letter said it’d been months since she paid our mortgage.

“Between all our debt, the bills surrounding your dad’s death, and . . . everything else we pay for, there just wasn’t enough money. I skipped paying for the house, thinking I could pay off our smaller debts faster, and now . . . . ”

I glanced up at my mother, my heart in my throat, hearing the words she hadn’t said.
And now we have your medical bills to worry about
. Her expression twisted in pain. Regret. Love. Sympathy. I turned away and pressed my fist to my chest, forcing down the emotions that bubbled in me like a volcano nearing eruption. I was the domino to knock the rest over. Was this why she’d thinned out so much and gotten so pale? Was I literally killing my mother?

Mom put a hand on top of mine. “Andie, listen to me. This has been two years in the making. This is
not
your fault. There is far more going on here than you’re even aware of.”

My eyes pooled with tears. “So, tell me!”

She pursed her lips and then sighed. “Honey, you don’t need to be carrying around more burdens than you need to.”

I shook my head, and she squeezed my hand.

“I need you to trust me that this would’ve happened even if you weren’t pregnant. This isn’t your fault.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t keep my thoughts from churning, my ribs from burning, my throat from aching. Here I was, selfish, wanting to keep my baby when we couldn’t even afford things for the two of us. My lungs felt ten sizes too small for my body. Maybe Mom was right; maybe I
should
put the baby up for adoption.

My insides clenched. I knew now what it felt like to yearn for answers about my identity, where I came from, why I couldn’t be raised by the people who gave me life—whether they even loved me. I didn’t want that fate for my child. I wanted my baby to
know
how much I loved it, to not have to question my affection or feel abandoned.

Oh, God, what do I do
?

When Mom stood to stick her mug in the dishwasher, I waddled up to my room, tears caught in my throat, and without even bothering to take off my clothes or makeup, I fell onto my bed. Mom didn’t try to get me to come downstairs that night or the next morning. After she pried the eviction notice from my shaking hands, I retreated to my room, crawled under my blankets, and refused to move, to think. All I wanted was to stay in bed and pretend, for a few hours, that nothing in my life was out of place.

The door to the garage closed as Mom left for work. I still didn’t move, not for a glass of water or a bite to eat. I hadn’t cried yet, and I really didn’t want to. We had until the end of January, according to the letter. Mom was going to file for bankruptcy. The government would hopefully help us with our bills. We’d both work harder to find part-time jobs, and we’d find a nice, small place to live.

“Maybe even close to Jill, in an apartment over one of the shops downtown,” Mom had said, trying to excite me.

But I’d never slept anywhere but this bedroom. I’d taken my first steps on this floor. My first sleepover was on this carpet and my first kiss on the swing set outside. I wanted to share some memories with my child in this house, in this room where I’d had tea parties with my dad and played Barbies with my mom.

I squeezed my watery eyes shut.
Stop thinking, Andie
.

At three o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. Neil. I’d told him the garage keypad’s code in case he left school early again and that he could come in that way. And, as expected, a minute or so later, the door from the garage into the kitchen opened.

“Andie?” Neil shouted from downstairs.

Not in the mood to yell, I texted him:
I’m in my room
. His phone chimed, then I heard footsteps march through the house and up the stairs. A second later, he was in my doorway. Spotting me still in bed, he leaned against the wall.

“Must be nice to sleep ‘til the middle of the day.” He grinned at me playfully. His dark hair was extra messy, and he’d yet to untuck his white River Springs polo shirt from his black pants. The muscles in his forearms popped as he crossed them, and the affection that glistened in his eyes made my heart stammer.

God had been way too generous with Neil’s genes.

But seeing him reminded me why I’d stayed in bed all day, and I dug my face into my pillow as a rubber band snapped in my chest. I bit my tongue to keep my emotions under control. Neil lay next to me and stroked my hair.

“You should be proud,” he said. “I really wanted to make a comment about the sight of my handsomeness bringing tears to your eyes, but I withheld.”

I lifted my head. “I’m not crying.”
Yet.
“And you just did.”

Neil was on his side, facing me, one hand holding up his head. His other rested on my arm over the comforter.

“Yeah, I guess I did. But it got you to look at me.”

When I glared at him, he smiled so big and bright. The corners of his eyes creased, and I couldn’t help myself. Digging out from under the blankets, I attacked him. I wanted him to make me forget, if only for a few minutes, that my life wasn’t spiraling out of control. We were losing our house. Mom was filing for bankruptcy. My baby might not have a home. And I was the one who detonated the bomb.

My assault caught him off-guard. He tipped onto his back as I kissed him with ferocity. I gripped the bottom of his shirt and tried to lift it over his head, but Neil grabbed my arms and pushed me onto my back. His lips left mine.

“Slow down a minute,” he said. “First, tell me what’s gotten into you, then we can return to the current program of Horny Teenagers on a Bed in an Empty House.”

Jaw clenched, I smacked his hands off my cheeks and pushed him, hard. He grunted and swayed backward, giving me the room I needed to climb off the bed. His face was full of pain when I spun around to glare at him, and my chest squeezed. But someone had stuck me on the Roulette Wheel of Emotion and spun. My hands shook, and my knees locked. I was stuck on fear, shame, anger. Even the words that came out of my mouth were out of control, and I couldn’t stop them. “A joke. Always another damn joke.”

Neil held up his hands. “Whoa, calm down.”

“Why can’t you ever be serious with me?”

“Why do you think I told you to wait a minute? Something obviously happened to make you stay in bed all day, and I’m
not
going to take advantage of your heightened emotions when I know it’ll come back to bite me in the ass. Don’t you dare use me as your punching bag.”

I screamed, tugging on my hair. He was right; I needed to calm down.

Spinning around, I sat on the bed, my back to Neil. “We’re losing the house, all right? Our eviction notice came yesterday.”

And here came the freaking tears. I wiped them from my cheeks with a vengeance.

Neil tugged on my arm, and I wound up on my back with my head in his lap.

Before I could get my hands over my face, Neil’s lips were on mine. He kissed me, not like I’d kissed him moments before but the way he had when I’d sat on the truck. Tender and gentle. The way he had when he promised to take care of me. Just like he was trying to do now. Another tear broke free. I never should’ve lashed out at him.

He kissed me a few more times, and, soon, all my anger melted away. Neil must’ve noticed I’d calmed, too, because he pulled back and wiped my cheeks.

At least he figured out how to get me off the crazy emotion train.

“Believe me when I tell you this: You’re going to be okay,” he said. “It might not feel like it right now, but I’ve been struggling to make ends meet since I was eight. It’s not ideal, but it’s doable. You were already planning to finish out high school at home, right?”

I nodded. I was ahead in my schoolwork and would finish junior year early. Once the baby came, I wanted to be around to take care of it while Mom was at work, so I planned to do my senior year as a homeschooled student too. Mom would sign me up for one of those online school things, and I was pretty good at self-teaching, so I wasn’t worried about never going back.

“Well, that’s already one thing—one expensive thing—you guys won’t have to pay for. And if you pick up some work, between that and your mom’s two jobs . . . it’ll be a different lifestyle, but you’ll be fine.”

He stroked my cheek with his thumb, and I leaned into his hand. I couldn’t help but feel like Mom was still hiding something, but he was right. My life
would
be different, but compared to what he’d dealt with for the last ten years, I shouldn’t complain.

I frowned. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Even though I tell too many jokes?”

I looked up at him. The corner of his mouth twitched. After hearing me swear at him, I couldn’t believe he was attempting to kid again. But his fearless sense of humor was something I’d come to adore.

“Well, I suppose you can’t help it. Considering there’s something wrong with you.”

He smirked. “Oh, really?” Neil grabbed my sides and squeezed.

I shrieked and tried to jump up, but he tickled harder. I smacked at his hands. “Stop! You’re going to make me pee. Seriously, stop!”

He let go with a laugh. Kneeling on the bed, I snatched my pillow and hit him with it. His stunned reaction sent me into a fit of giggles, and when I tried to smack him a second time, he grabbed the pillow and tossed it aside. Then he was on his knees, and the next thing I knew, I was on my back again. Except, this time, Neil straddled me and held my hands above my head.

His playful smile made me ache to assault him all over again, but he called “truce” and sat back when I nodded.

Righting myself, I grabbed my hair tie off the nightstand and pulled my blonde strands into a ponytail. When I turned back to him, Neil twirled something in his fingers. It looked like a folded notecard. I touched his back when his shoulders curled forward.

“You okay?” I asked.

He played with the notecard for a few more seconds then held it out to me. “I forced Regina to look up info about Miranda.”

I took the folded card from him.

Before I could ask him what he meant by forced, he continued, “Turns out Jill’s information was wrong. Miranda Fuller isn’t your mom.”

I opened the notecard. Regina had scrawled a name inside.
Jodi Greer
. I touched my throat. “So, is this . . . ?”

“Your birth mom. Yeah. The right name, this time.” His voice was melancholy. Why wasn’t he happy?

I could barely contain my joy. We’d found her. We’d actually found her.

“Andie, I looked into it,” he continued. “Your mom’s in prison for robbing a bank at gunpoint about five years ago. It’ll be another fifteen years before she gets out.”

My insides clenched. My mom was a criminal? Before I’d heard of Miranda Fuller, I’d expected the possibility my birth mom was poor or single. Heck, I’d even considered she was a drug addict or an alcoholic. But a gun-wielding bank robber? That one hadn’t crossed my mind.

Still, ever since Jill, Neil, and I started looking, my longing for this moment had grown. I couldn’t give up on meeting Jodi, not when I was so close.

“Then I’ll visit her in jail,” I said.

“It’s not that simple. There’s a process for visiting an inmate—an application you have to fill out. And you’re a minor.”

“You’ll be eighteen in a month. I mean, wouldn’t it take them that long to process my application anyway?”

Neil shook his head. “I can’t take you. It has to be a parent or legal guardian.”

I frowned. How could I ask my mom to accompany me to see the woman who birthed me? I didn’t want Mom to think I was telling her she wasn’t good enough.

But if I wanted to meet my birth mother, it was the only choice I had. I’d regret it if I didn’t.

“I’ll . . . ask my mom.” My voice sounded as sad as I felt.

Neil touched my cheek. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. I wish I had better news, like your birth mom’s a millionaire movie star. Not some Bonnie or Clyde.”

I sighed. What else could I have expected, though? Parents didn’t give up their kid unless they had to. Or, at least, I hoped they didn’t. Maybe my mom had a good reason after all. I just hoped the decision wasn’t easy for her—that she’d loved me, even a little.

“Where do I get the application?” I asked.

Neil stood and held out his hand, and when I took it, he tugged me to my feet. “Well, see, there were these really smart guys who invented something called the Internet.”

I backhanded his abs, and he laughed.

chapter twenty-one