Page 92 of Tanner

“But?”

He inhales, slowly letting it out. “I wonder if it’s all worth it. My mom started this business as a small human-interest magazine, and building it became this immense accomplishment, a legacy for her sons. Growing up, we didn’t have a babysitter or nanny, so I spent hours every day sitting in the office with her. I did my homework and then watched her work. She had me doing mailers and working on advertisements when I was ten. You can only imagine how amazing I was at Photoshop. I was just a kid, and she was letting me make the creative decisions, letting me give her advice. Not because she wanted her kid to do work she didn’t want to do. It was because she was cultivating the businessman in me. She was honing in on my creative voice. That’s the kind of woman she was. She saw your talent, and she pulled it out and let it shine. This business was hers, but it was also her gift for her boys. She always made sure to tell us. I only knew her for fourteen short years. Austin had four more, and Bryce had four more than that. They have this notion of our family’s purpose ingrained in them so prominently that it’s become a mantra.”

“Then, why isn’t it worth it?”

“Because we’re all unhappy, and no one is saying it.”

I’m shocked at his admission. I pause for a second, taking in his words. “What does that mean?”

“When she died, something died in all of us, too. She wanted more for us. She always talked about love and relationships and the families we would have one day. And, now, I don’t see any of that happening with them. I’m afraid that, when I go there, all that bitterness will eat its way into my soul, too.”

I interlace my fingers with his. I can’t believe the man sitting in front of me is only twenty-two. He’s such an old soul, truly wise beyond his years, and my heart aches to hear what’s been going through his mind.

I can’t imagine having to choose between what my mom wanted and what I want. My mom helped me become a teacher. She instilled my love of reading, learning, and nurturing.

“You think you won’t be happy there?”

His hesitation speaks volumes.

“But you said Austin has a girlfriend now, so that seems like they’re moving in the right direction,” I say, trying to give him some kind of hope in this depressing conversation.

“Yeah. And, if Bryce didn’t screw things up in Tahoe, I think he does, too.”

“So, both of them seem to be trying. Maybe this accident will help them see what’s important in life.”

Tanner closes his eyes, and I can see his lips start to tremble. He sits up and wraps his arms around my waist. I rub his back and hold him tightly. Suddenly, his body trembles. His head rests in the crook of my neck. I feel a slight dew, and I think he’s crying.

“Tanner …”

“I was so scared.” His words are muffled.

I try to lean back to look at his face, but he’s holding me so secure that I can’t move. I stop trying. Instead, I hold his head and grip his back. His trap muscles are tight. His forearms are digging into my sides, and his fists are grabbing on to my shirt.

“She was driving to an appointment,” he says through a shaky breath.

The words make me temporarily stop moving my hand. I quickly get my wits about me, realizing he’s talking about his mom, and continue to soothe him.

“The appointment was at six, but since it was winter, it was already dark and raining. She was actually on the phone with my dad when it happened. He heard her scream, the tires squeal, and then commotion. Later, he found out that her car had tumbled.”

It’s a horrific way to die. I don’t say this out loud. He knows that. It’s just so tragic and sad.

“He said he’d heard her saying there was a deer. My mom died because a fucking mammal had walked into the road, and her car slid off the side of a cliff.” He lifts his head, and I get a chance to gaze into those blue eyes I love so much. They’re glassy and rimmed with sorrow. “When Bryce called and said Austin had been in an accident, I thought it was happening all over again.”

I rub my hand over his, trying to steal his sadness and help heal him in some way. “Austin is okay. You won’t feel that pain again. Not today. That must have been pretty traumatic for you. And for your father, having been on the phone with her.”

Tanner grimaces. “I’ve never spoken to him about it. He never talks about my mother, even about her death.”

“Then, how do you—”

“Her police file. I took it from my dad’s office when I was sixteen. I was tired of having everyone talk about her death behind my back. I wanted the details. They wouldn’t give them to me, so I took them.”

“How detailed was the file?” I ask hesitantly.

“Graphic.” He closes his eyes for a moment and clenches his jaw. “Part of me wishes I’d never seen it. Mostly, I’m glad I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes me feel like I was there with her, and she wasn’t alone when she died.”