Free Just Let Me Love You by S.R. Grey Page A

mother, but what’s the point.
    “I’ve done some things recently,” I confess. “Things I’m not proud of.”
    Fear darkens Mom’s eyes.
    She knows the hold one drug in particular used to have on me. And that is what surely prompts her to ask, “No cocaine, though, right?”
    “No cocaine,” I assure her.
    She visibly relaxes, her shoulders slumping. “Thank God.”
    She sighs, like the possibility of coke ruling me again might be too much for her to bear.
    I hear `ya , I think.
    Mom and I are quiet for the next several minutes, lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, she breaks the silence with a laugh.
    “What?” I ask.
    She points to the top drawer in the work bench. “There are cigarettes in there, and it’s taking everything in me not to go over there and light one up. I sure could use a smoke right about now.”
    I’ve known all along Abby never quit smoking. But I’m not going to get on her ass now. Not after this talk.
    Waving a hand to the workbench, I say, “Go ahead. I won’t tell Greg.”
    She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Chase.”
    While Mom walks over to the workbench and lights up, I point to the motorcycle.
    “What about this old thing?” I say. “Where in the hell has it been all this time? I thought we lost everything.”
    “I thought we did, too,” Mom says on an exhale of smoke, her voice pinched with nicotine and tar.
    I wave away the smoke and ask, “So, where’d you find the bike?”
    I am curious since most everything my family ever owned was lost to bankers, creditors, or pawn shops.
    Mom takes another quick hit of her cigarette, and then puts it out on the edge of the work bench. As she’s sliding the hardly smoked cig into the pack, she says, “One day, I was cleaning and came across an old shoebox of letters your father had written me. There was a key for a storage unit in the bottom of the box.” She shrugs. “Jack must’ve tucked it in there ages ago and forgot about it. Anyway, the name of the place was on the key, as well as the unit number, so I drove out to the address. That’s where I found the bike.”
    “What else was in the unit?” I ask, curious.
    “Nothing. Just the bike.”
    I look over at the old Indian. “That’s pretty amazing we still have it.”
    “It is,” Mom agrees. “And if you want it, Chase, it’s yours,” she adds with a smile.
    I’m thrilled and touched. To have this piece of my dad would mean so much.
    I thank my mother, and then say, “Guess Kay and I can drive back on this. We could actually see the country, instead of flying over it at thirty thousand feet.”
    “It’s up to you,” my mother says. “I can just ship it to Harmony Creek if you change your mind.”
    “We’ll see,” I say. “I’ll ask Kay what she wants to do.”
    Mom nods, and then quietly says, “By the way, Chase, I like Kay. She seems like a very nice young lady, perfect for you.”
    “She is perfect for me,” I agree.
    “Well,” Mom continues, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like to get to know her a little better. Since she’ll be in town all week, would you mind if I ask her out to lunch?”
    “I’m fine with that,” I say, since I am. “And maybe while you two are out to lunch, I can finally find some alone time with Will.”
    Mom’s expression turns grim, “About Will,” she begins. “I’m sorry I pushed him on you this summer. Greg and I should never have gone on that cruise.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
    Since I have Mom right where I want her—focused back on being a mother to my brother—I say, “Will needs more structure, Mom. He’s struggling. He needs some rules and an anchor to ground him. He needs someone to make him feel safe.”
    With despair I’ve never heard from my mom, she says, “You mean he needs me .”
    I sigh. “Yes, Mom, he needs you.”
    We discuss Will for the next hour. Before we wrap up, Mom agrees to get him some counseling.
    “Is he still doing