Free Hushed by Kelley York

arm. “No, never mind… I don’t know what goes through her head with some of those boys. But enough about that. How’ve you been, sweetheart?”
    The edge of the bed creaked a little when he took a seat on it. “Fine. School is school. I like my apartment.”
    She chuckled. “I imagine so. A place all to yourself… You always were an independent boy.”
    Archer couldn’t help but feel a little proud. He’d proven thus far he didn’t need his mother. Even if she cut him off financially, he had more than enough saved and enough grants to get him through college with little trouble.
    Speaking of his mother, he felt obligated to at least ask: “How’s Mom, anyway?”
    “Same old, same old.” She eyed him. “When’s the last time you called her?”
    Archer rolled his shoulders into a shrug, averting his gaze. “A few weeks ago.” Truth. He’d called to wish her a happy birthday, although she hadn’t answered. “She must’ve been busy. Didn’t get around to calling me back.” He should’ve been used to it.
    Marissa sighed. She looked tired again. “Archer…you know I love your mom dearly, but I also want you to know I don’t think she did right by you. I hoped after your dad died, the two of you might be closer, but…”
    Everyone had loved his dad, only because they didn’t know him. Marissa heard the stories from him, and probably from Mom, but she’d never seen it firsthand, either.
    “Don’t worry about it.” It was his turn to give her hand a squeeze. “Mom and I are different people, that’s all. I’m sure she has her reasons. Maybe I remind her too much of Dad.” He didn’t believe that.
    Marissa didn’t seem to, either. “No. I think you remind her of all the things she’s done wrong.”
    Her tired eyes bored into him. Thoughtful. Knowing. But not judging, not afraid. His stomach flip-flopped, and it took effort to keep the tremors from invading his body. He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore, instead focusing on his hands in his lap.
    Does she know? Did Mom tell her?
    Marissa sank down a little more in bed. “No, no… Don’t get yourself worked up,” she murmured, sounding far away. “Not like I’m going to tell anyone. You’re a good boy, Archer.”
    A good boy. Him.
    “I know when I go, you’ll be the one there for Vivi, won’t you?” She laid her hand over his. When she squeezed it, her grip was weak.
    He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
    “I’d like to wear my red dress again.” Her lashes lowered. “You’ll make sure of that, too.”
    Archer knew which dress she meant. Slimming and beautiful on her; she’d worn it to his and Vivian’s high-school graduation. Nothing fancy about it, but Marissa said it was her favorite because it’d been bought for such a special occasion.
    “I’ll make sure of it,” he murmured.
    He didn’t want to leave, but Marissa’s breathing leveled out and when he softly said her name, she was asleep. He drew the blanket up to her shoulders, kissed her forehead, and stepped out of the room.
    Three feet into the hall, his mother rounded the corner and stopped short, staring at him.
    Seeing her there made him angry all over again. Vivian had her stupid reasons for not calling to tell him Marissa was in the hospital, but what excuse did she have? His mother straightened, began walking, looking determined to step right past him without a word. Archer caught her by the arm.
    “You could have told me she was here.”
    She tensed. He released her. “Vivian could’ve told you,” she said sharply. “If she didn’t, maybe there was a reason for it.”
    “Your feelings and hers don’t really matter in this, do they?” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “ She was happy to see me. That’s all that should’ve mattered.” They stared at each other, long and hard, and she was the first one to look away. She always was.
    “What’re you doing here, anyway?”
    Archer shrank