She was at the top of the grand staircase. She wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses accented with gold. Her black skirt and blazer rolled business and mourning all into one. So convenient. Her dark brown hair had gone silver since Kaden last saw her. At the sight of him, she started down the steps, one hand on the railing. Her heels clicked against the wood, slow and measured.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He held his breath as their eyes locked.

“You actually came,” she said.

He ached with the desire to believe the lilt in her voice was about him, but every emotion with his mother had only ever been about her.

Her son had listened to her message.

Her son had come home.

Her son loved her.

He looked down at his feet, rubbed the toe of one shoe against the carpet. Then he glanced back up and ran a hand through his hair, stopping at the top of his head.

“I got your message.”

“I wasn’t sure if I’d found the right number, but when I heard your voice on the answering machine…” She hesitated. “It’s good to have you home, Kaden.”

The woman behind him whispered his name. “Kaden Bonner?” Dazed, she said, “Mrs. Bonner, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Sylvia fluttered a hand at her, as if she couldn’t be bothered with a full wave. “Of course not,” she said. “Don’t let us keep you.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be just outside,” the woman said, making herself smaller as she backed out onto the porch. The door closed behind her with a click.

“Well?” Sylvia asked. “Aren’t you going to give your mom a hug?”

Kaden took a step toward her, willing the tension out of his arms before wrapping them around her. She still smelled the same, sweet and smoky like corn and oak. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop the tears welling up.

When he pulled back, she rested her hands on his shoulders and arched an eyebrow. This close he could see all the lines at the corners of her eyes and feathering out from her lips. It hurt to realize how much she’d aged since he last saw her.

But he wasn’t here to make up for time lost.

“I hope those tears aren’t for your father,” she said.

Kaden thumbed them away. “You know me better than that.”

The furrows in her brow mirrored Kaden’s. He hated seeing so much of himself in her.

“It’s probably too much to hope they’re for me.” She dropped her hold on him.

He resisted the urge to laugh, which only made the tears fall faster. Talking to her felt like stretching a broken arm that hadn’t healed quite right. Of course she wanted him to cry for her.

“They’re for a lot of things, Mom,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”