Chapter 168
Summer's POV
"Your father came from nothing," she said softly.
I went very still. She almost never talked about Dad.
"His family thought I was slumming it. My family thought he was using me. Everyone had an opinion about what we should do, who we should be." Her smile was sad and fond at the same time. "We didn't listen to any of them."
She opened her eyes and looked at me. "His neighborhood wasn't safe either. His brother ran with a bad crowd. I remember one night—I'd just turned twenty—I drove to his apartment at two in the morning because I heard gunshots on the phone and the line went dead." She let out a quiet laugh. "My mother didn't speak to me for a week."
"But this is different," I said. "Kieran's situation is—"
"It's not that different." She brushed a strand of hair from my face. "What's different is that I'm the mother now, and I finally understand why mine aged ten years in a single night." Her expression softened, but her eyes stayed serious. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not scared, Summer. I am. I'm terrified. But I know that telling you to stop caring about him would be like telling the tide not to come in."
I thought about Kieran's hands cradling my face. His voice saying I'm yours. The way he'd looked at me like I was the only solid thing in his entire chaotic world.
"He's worth it," I whispered. "I know he is."
Mom studied me for another long moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But there are going to be rules. Big ones."
"Okay."
"First, you don't go to Southie alone again. Ever. If Kieran needs help, you call me, or Robert Bell, or the actual police. You don't play hero. You don't go anywhere near Drake Cross."
"But—"
"No buts, Summer. I'm dead serious." Her voice hardened in a way I'd rarely heard. "That man put his hands on his own family tonight. You think he'd hesitate with a stranger? With someone he might see as interfering?" She gripped my shoulders, making me look at her. "If you can't agree to that, then I'll have to reconsider whether you're mature enough to be in this relationship at all."
The threat landed like ice water. I swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay. I promise."
"Second, I want to meet him. Properly. Not just a wave in the hallway. I want him to come to dinner."
My heart jumped. "Really?"
"Really. If he's important enough for you to risk your safety, then he's important enough for me to know." She paused. "And I want to look him in the eye and understand what kind of young man he is when he's not in crisis. I want to see who my daughter is willing to run into the fire for."
"And third—and this is non-negotiable—you tell me when you're going to be late. Even if it's embarrassing. Even if you think I'll be mad. You tell me, Summer. You pick up your phone. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said, my voice small. "I understand."
She pulled me into a hug, fierce and tight, and I could feel her trembling. "I love you, sweetheart. So much. And I know I haven't always shown it the way I should. I've been so focused on work, on building something for you, that I forgot to just... be your mom."
"You're a great mom," I whispered into her shoulder, and I meant it. In this life, in this timeline, I wasn't going to take her for granted. I wasn't going to let her die alone in a prison cell, believing I resented her.
When we finally pulled apart, she wiped her eyes and gave me a watery smile. "Go get some sleep. You look like you've been through a war."
I stood, legs aching, exhaustion hitting me all at once now that the adrenaline had nowhere left to go.
"And Summer?" She caught my hand as I turned toward the stairs. "If this boy makes you happy—truly happy—then I'm on your side. Always. But I'm also going to protect you, even when you don't want me to. That's what mothers do."
I made it halfway up the stairs before the tears started.