The Beauty in Eternity

Chapter 63.

"You're clocking out?" Matt whines from behind me, making me jump.

"I am," I chuckle as I turn around, "I told you I was leaving early tonight—I want to visit my mom."

"I know, I'm just jealous," he groans, rolling his eyes. "Send her my love?"

"Enjoy the rest of your shift." I smirk, backing towards the door.

"Whatever!" he yells.

As I walk outside I see Elijah leaning against my car, arms crossed against his chest with a wide smile on his face. I smile at the sight of him as he pushes his blonde locks from his forehead—the wind making them fall carelessly. I jog towards the car to escape the cold air as quickly as possible.

"I bought muffins," he shrugs, raising his brow.

"Hello to you, too." I chuckle, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

He opens the door, closing it behind me as I shuffle into the passenger seat. I peer into the familiar brown paper bag that sits in between the seats; holding myself back from eating them on the spot.

"Do you want to come with me to see my mom?" I ask, clicking my seatbelt into place.

"I can't today, I have some errands to do before tonight." he sighs.

"Oh," I furrow my brow, "Okay, that's fine."

He turns to face me, placing a hand on top of mine, "Do you want me there with you?" he asks with concern in his voice.

"No," I shake my head, "It's okay, really. I can handle my mom."

"Are you sure?" the worry in his voice is evident, but it only makes me smile. I never feel alone with Elijah—he wouldn't let me.

"I'm sure." I nod.

I give in to temptation and eat one of the muffins on the drive over, with Elijah telling me how I'll regret it for the rest of my life if I don't. As we pull up outside I sigh, I'm so exhausted that I'm surprised I'm even functioning.

"Call me if either of you need anything?" he raises his brow, leaning in.

"I will." I give him a small smile, placing a kiss on his lips.

I walk inside, and then out—into the garden where she sits on a bench next to a freshly planted patch of flowers.

"Mar!" she smiles warmly, standing to her feet.

"Hey, mom." I return the smile, wrapping my arms around her.

"Please, sit, I've missed you so much." she tells me softly.

"I missed you too, mom."

I look around the long garden, gazing at the other families who've come to visit their loved ones. I watch as a small child, possibly only Isabella's age wanders around the bench opposite us, smiling as she picks some flowers—seemingly unbothered by the cold wind that creeped in today. I look to see who I assume is her mother, smiling with sheer pride as she watches her child; cherishing the moments that they get to spend together in here—for two hours, every other day.

I find myself wishing that I had found myself in her position, my mom finding help when I was so young. I wonder how things would have been if she had admitted to herself she needed help all that time ago. But that's the thing about alcoholism; it truly isn't a choice. And as much as I wanted to be the reason she found help, just as I thought the girls would be—nothing, and nobody can. The only way she can start her journey to recovery is by being her own saving grace; and taking that step by herself.