Playing Heart Games

Level 66: Talk To Your Parents

AXEL

"There's a lot we need to talk about."

Mom was sat on the other side of the table, opposite where Asher and I were seated. Dad was sat on the same side, a metre away from her. He'd tried to sit closer, but she'd shifted her chair away from his. He'd deflated, and hadn't spoken since.

Mom's hands were knotted together, her face grave. Lines I'd never seen before were indented around her features. "The last few months..." she trailed off.

"I'm sorry," Asher blurted out. He stared at the table. "I lied—I should never have let Axel take the blame—"

"Oh, honey," mom moaned, her eyes filling with tears. "We're the ones who are sorry." She squeezed his hands. "You're the child. You should have felt comfortable telling us the truth. We should have made you feel comfortable enough that you could tell us the truth. The fact that you were so scared to tell us..." she shook her head. Her voice came out as a rasp, "We've failed you."

"Mom," Asher croaked.

Dad leaned forward, griping Asher's shoulder. "Son, we'll do everything we can to help you. Whatever you need—we're here for you."

Asher's head jerked into a nod, tears sliding down his face. He scrubbed them away with his sleeve.

Mom turned to me, squeezing my hand. Her face crumpled. "Axel—"

I tried to smile, but the expression wavered. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. "Hey—don't cry."

The words had the opposite effect: her face dissolved. "You were always—I'm sorry, I should never have yelled at you."

A lump swelled in my throat. "It's okay, mom. It was my fault—"

"No, it's not," she interrupted. "You're a child. My child. None of this—none of what you've been doing, none of what you've been dealing with, is your responsibility." Tears slid down her face. "I'm sorry we didn't do our jobs properly. I'm sorry that we failed."

Dad's expression slackened. He reached for her. "Isabel—"

She flinched away from him. His expression was so hurt that I had to look away.

Mom dragged in a breath, her expression firming. "I—we love you both more than anything. You two are our whole world. And we have to talk about this. We have to talk about all the secrets, and the difficulties, but right now you both need to rest." She squeezed our hands, then released them. "Could you both head upstairs please? I need to talk to your father."

Asher nodded, scrubbing away the last of his tears and standing. I hesitated, then did the same, following him out of the kitchen.

Behind me, mom's voice, a quiet hiss just before the door shut: "Our relationship is a moot point. This conversation is about our children. If you ever hit my son again—"

I stared forward without seeing anything. I was floored.

I couldn't decide how to feel. Nothing that had occurred in the last few hours felt like reality. It was as if I was dreaming.

Before we made it to the stairs, Asher hugged me.

"Thank you for everything," he croaked. "I love you."

I blinked back tears, my eyes burning. I rubbed his back. "It's okay, kid."

And it was.

"I love you too."

For the first time in a long time, it was actually okay.

*

"So, no more blackmail?" Macey sat in the armchair opposite mine, drowning in one of her oversized cardigans.