Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

53. Too Little, Too Late

Hey guys, I'm back. It's been a while, I know, but my laptop decided to have a mind of its own, I had a hot case of writers' block, and I just started my internship so I'm trying to get accustomed to being back at home in Barbados. 

Also, I'm kind of worried about this book, if I'm honest. I feel like I gave people a really different impression of this story when it begins, it's quite lighthearted and humourous, and now everything's so serious and sad and triggering and depressing. I'm sorry it feels like so many bad things are happening right now, there will be brighter moments soon. Sigh.

On a happier note, THANK YOU FOR 70K READS!!!! I could squeal, guys! You guys make me a very happy girl, and to you new readers out there voting and comment spamming, I see you and I appreciate you :-)

Maybe, just maybe, if I get the time and the inspiration, I'll pop you guys a cute little fluffy episode to celebrate 75,000 reads. Might be within this timeline, might not. Tell me what you guys want to read! More sweet family moments with the Daniels? Underrated Rymma scenes while working at Beans n' Stuff? Kale and Holden? Let me know!

Either way, I've rambled enough. This chapter's longer than usual and very sad. I warned you. Here, have a tissue. Enjoy.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of domestic violence/abuse, mental instability, alcoholism and drug abuse. Very slight references to suicidal thoughts.

Eileen stared blankly at the phone in front of her, making no move to answer the call as Ryder crossed the screen for the seventh time in three hours. Her face was void of emotion as she watched the call go to voicemail, her hand wrapped around a cup of now half-cold coffee. She had barely touched the scrambled egg sandwich she'd ordered, almost too numb to function. In the back of her mind, Eileen knew she needed to eat, keep her physical strength up with the hope of making herself at least somewhat functional before she could attempt to accomplish what she'd set out to do earlier that morning. She'd left Drew's house while Alicia had only just made her way into the kitchen, rushing out a hurried explanation as to her sudden disappearance.

She couldn't possibly tell the other woman where she really planned to go that morning. Alicia would, without a doubt, tell her son, and if Drew had even the slightest idea that Eileen was going back to Felipe's apartment, even if was just to collect her things, there was absolutely no doubt that Ryder would know almost immediately. And Eileen had disappointed her younger son too many times to come clean about this particular happening. As far as she knew, Ryder was already pissed that she'd let Felipe come back into their lives, and that anger was justified. In the grand scheme of things, he was the one who had suffered the most as a result of his parents' actions and decisions. Sure, he'd made his own, horrible choices, but he hadn't had very good examples on either side.

Eileen couldn't pick up the phone.

Another hour passed before she could steel herself enough to stand to her feet, discard the untouched breakfast and use the restroom before she could leave the restaurant. She stared into the grimey bathroom mirror, where puffy, red eyes gave away all the nights she had spent pouring tears into Alicia's sofa. Eileen's whole demeanour gave off an air of complete and utter exhaustion in every sense of the word. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, stray greys framing her tired face. She smacked her cheeks with her hands, trying to bring some life back into herself.

Come on, old girl, she told herself. Do what you have to do.

This time, she kept the tears back. She had to, because at that moment, another woman, visibly older than herself, joined Eileen in the restroom.

"Morning, doll," she greeted cheerfully, and the younger woman struggled to give a hum of acknowledgement. I need to go was the single thought running through her mind, the only words motivating her not to break that morning's resolve. Still, her palms lay flat on the probably dirty counter, her shoulders hunched over, arms the only things that kept Eileen from collapsing on the restroom floor.