Illusive

* * *

“You’re not coming in?” Magan stared at me in confusion as I parked my car at the hospital.

God, even just sitting in the car park of the same hospital my mother was in caused nerves to shoot through me. I didn’t understand my reaction, and I needed some quiet time to process it all. “I’m not ready to see her just yet,” I said softly.

Frown lines marred her forehead. “But haven’t you wanted to see her your entire life? I don’t understand.”

“I have,’ I said carefully, “but I’d accepted I would never see her again. That took me a long time and a lot of work to get to, and to now be presented with this…I need some time to get my head around it, that’s all.”

“She might die! You might never get to see her again.” Her eyes were wild with confusion and a desperation I knew well. I’d suffered from that same desperation while growing up – desperate to see my mother again and to know that she really did love me even if she’d never told me or shown me.

I nodded and took a deep breath. “I know. And that’s something I’ll have to deal with if it happens, but for me, right now, I need to not see her today. I know that won’t make any sense to you, and I’m sorry, but I can’t come in with you.”

Frustration took over her features as she grabbed her bag. Opening the door, she got out of the car and then leant back in to say, “You’re right, it makes no sense. I just hope you don’t live to regret it.”

“I hope so, too,” I said, and then added, “Do you want me to wait or will you phone me when you’re ready and I’ll come pick you up?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call Brody and get him to come pick me up after he finishes work.”

I’d upset her, but that couldn’t be helped. These days I had to put myself first, especially where my mother was concerned.

“Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks for dropping me off,” she said and then walked away from me as my heart cracked a little. It felt like a divide had grown between us in the last five minutes, and I wanted more than anything to fix that. But the thing I’d learnt about life was that you couldn’t force something that needed time to heal.

I started the car and drove home. It was only twelve thirty but I wasn’t going back to work; I’d never get any work done when my mind was all over the place like it was now.

When I arrived home, I noticed Griff’s bike parked across the street. It had been two days since I’d seen or heard from him, and I didn’t expect he’d ever reach out to me again. God, why did I sleep with him? We could have just stayed friends.

I collected my mail and trudged up the path to my front door. My thoughts banged around inside my head and I figured my headache was going nowhere now. Between my mother and Griff, they had my pain covered. When I made it to the front door, my gaze narrowed on the welcome mat. There was a pair of boxing gloves on it.

What the hell?

I bent to retrieve them, and realisation dawned on me. Without entering my house, I turned and marched across the street to Josie’s house. Her front door was open but neither she nor Griff were anywhere in sight, so I knocked and waited. A few moments later, he walked down the hallway towards me, and as much as I fought it, the sight of him caused butterflies in my tummy.

No, no, no!

To make matters worse, he only had on a towel.

Wrapped around his freaking waist.

His chest bare.

His sexy ass muscles on full display.

And his hair wet like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

God, help me, ‘cause I’m not sure I can help myself.

And then he spoke, and I remembered why I was here. “Sophia.” He said my name as if it was the last word he wanted to be saying, and it caused all the butterflies in my tummy to whoosh right on out. The hard look on his face did the same.

I held up the gloves. “Did you leave these at my front door?” Even as I was holding them up, I was confused. If he didn’t want to be seeing me, why would he bring me gloves? This man made no sense.

He eyed them and nodded. “Yeah, I thought you could use them for boxing classes.”

I shoved them at him. “Thank you, but I don’t want them.”

“I bought them for you. Keep them,” he growled as he pushed them back at me.

Shaking my head in a crazed type way – like the freaking crazy woman I was today – I shoved them at him and said, “I can buy my own damn gloves, Griff. Screw needing a man in my life to do shit for me, because that clearly isn’t working out for me.” My eyes dropped to his chest before shifting back to his face. Gesturing at his body, I said, “And for the love of God, would you please put some clothes on? When the hell did it become alright for men to answer doors dressed in towels?”

Without waiting for a reply, I turned and stalked down the stairs, across the street and into my house.

Goddamn, fucking men.

And then I collapsed onto my bed and let the tears stream down my face.

Today was one of those days where it felt like everything and everyone was out to get me. My boss, my sister, my mum, and the man I wanted so damn bad.

But mostly, it was my mum.

I cried the tears that my nine-year-old self had cried when I came home from school to find my mother gone, and in her place, an aunt who didn’t want me.

I cried the tears that my thirteen-year-old self cried when I got my period and didn’t know what the hell to do because my mother hadn’t been there to teach me and hold my hand through the transition into puberty.