Page 87 of The Quirky Vet

I'm sticking to my guns on this one because it's what Gramps wanted. And with him gone, it's up to me to make sure it happens.

For a second, it looks as if Mum's about to sneeze but instead she…she starts to cry.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm a terrible mother."

Fuck.

Guilt swamps me immediately because I've seen Mum fake cry enough times to know these aren't crocodile tears. Maybe I should have waited for a better time.

"I didn't say you're a terrible mother."

I guess it was implied, though. Shit. I'm really not thinking clearly at the moment.

"No, you didn't." She fans her eyes. "Because you wouldn't ever say something that hurtful. You were always a good kid, and you've grown into an exceptional man, Muir. Despite everything I've done and the way I treated you."

I amsonot prepared for this. I was expecting a fight, a nastyverbal exchange, and her storming out of here in a huff, threatening to see me in court.

But Mum actually hearing what I'm saying for what feels like the first time and taking some accountability?

Definitely not on the cards.

I'm so exhausted and drained from the past few days, I don't know if I have the energy to get into it all right now, but then again, who knows if I'll ever get another chance.

So we talk.

She tells me how much she loved Dad, and how heartbroken she was when he got killed because the life together they'd planned had been stolen from her. She tells me about her mum, how cold and indifferent she was, how nothing Mum ever did met the expectations Grandma had of her. She tells me how she's never been able to find love with anyone else, how the world is full of shitty men, and how she was so desperate to have even a fraction of what she had with Dad that she went along with things she knew were wrong.

Some of what she's saying borders on blaming-everyone-else territory, but I can see a self-awareness awakening in her. It won't happen overnight, but I think she's on the right path to seeing that as much as all those things may be true, we all need to take responsibility for the way we react to stuff.

"I'm sorry, Muir," she says, her face tear-stained, much like mine. "I'm really sorry. For everything."

"Thank you for saying that."

"I won't contest. About the house. It's yours, just like Sid wanted."

"Thanks, Mum."

"I, um, I should probably get going. Maybe we can see each other again before I leave?"

I nod. "Yeah. Of course. We should."

She gets up, and I watch her walk away. When she reaches the wide doors that lead into the pub, she almost bumps into Fitz. I'mtoo far away to hear, but it looks like they exchange a few words before she slips inside.

I manage a grin as he walks over, carrying a tray. He's been low-key glaring at Mum all day, and I've been low-key secretly loving it.

"I got these for you." He places four shots in front of me. "I can always get more if needed."

"That won't be necessary. But one will do." I hand him a glass. "To Gramps."

"To Gramps."

We throw back the shot of vodka. It burns as it slides down my throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. My chest tightens for a moment, followed by a quick rush of warmth.

"Are you okay?" He sits next to me and places his hand over mine.

"I think so. I told Mum she's not getting the house, and I may have told her how I feel about a few other things, too."

"So why am I not hearing police sirens?"