She’s Gone Country Read Online Free Page B

are you doing up so early?”
    “Studying.”
    I pull out a seat at the table and sit across from him, my head as thick as cotton wool. “Are you having trouble in school?”
    “No. But the PSATs are next week and I want to do well.”
    “Right. College.” Can’t believe college is just a few years away. Can’t believe Hank is already a high school sophomore. Where did the time go?
    “You know, if I were at Dyer, they’d have us doing all kinds of tutorials and test study sessions,” Hank says, looking up at me. “Here they don’t do any of that. Nobody cares about college, not unless they’re going to go on a football scholarship.”
    “That’s not true.”
    Hank holds my gaze. “I want to return to Dyer.”
    “Hank—”
    “They’ll let me back in. I already called the admissions office. My class has always been small, and they haven’t given my place away. We just have to send the tuition and I’m in.”
    I blink, dumbfounded. “You called the school?”
    “You weren’t going to.”
    I just keep staring at him. He’s tall and broad through the shoulders, with the faintest stubble shadowing his jawline. Even at his thinnest, he was never as lanky as his younger brothers. Instead, he takes after John with his muscular build and darker coloring. John, a brunette with olive skin, is still strikingly handsome, and it’s becoming increasingly evident that Hank’s going to look like his dad when he’s an adult.
    Lucky Hank.
    “I want to go back to New York, Mom.”
    He isn’t a boy anymore. He’s becoming that man who’ll head off to school one day and not come home.
    He’s going to have a whole life apart from mine.
    He’s going to have other people to love. Other people who will matter more.
    It’s the strangest realization, and one that hurts. I love my boys. I’ve loved being their mom. Nothing—not modeling, not marriage, no amount of traveling or fine things—has ever come close to the joy I get from being Hank, Bo, and Cooper’s mother.
    “You want to leave?” My voice shakes. I could use a strong, hot cup of coffee.
    “I’d miss you,” he admits gruffly.
    But he still wants to leave. Me.
    My head pounds, and I push away from the table to make a pot. I drink too much coffee—three, four cups each day—but it keeps me going, occupies my hands, and keeps my belly warm. It’s either that or back to smoking, and I don’t need to smoke.
    “I’d still see you,” Hank says to my back as I measure out the grounds. “I’d come visit for holidays,” he adds, “and you could always come to New York and see me.”
    “What about your brothers?” I ask, turning on the machine.
    He doesn’t immediately answer, and keeping my expression blank, I face him. But Hank’s not looking at me. He’s frowning at the table and nudging what’s left of his bagel around the perimeter of his plate. Finally, he shrugs. “I was going to go away sooner or later.”
    Later being the key word.
    I battle to keep my voice neutral. Don’t need to put him on the defensive. Don’t need to draw party lines. “You only just turned fifteen, honey.”
    His head lifts, and he looks at me, his eyes more gold than brown. “You went away to boarding school at sixteen.”
    Yes, and I never came home again.
    I want to go and wrap my arms around him and tell him if he goes, I will miss him every day he’s gone. I want to tell him that he’s not just my oldest son, but my heart. I want to tell him that I’ve just lost his dad and I’m not ready to lose him, too.
    But I don’t. I can’t.
    I can’t cry and can’t cling because I’m raising boys, boys who must become strong, independent men.
    “True.” I force a smile.
    “You made good friends,” he continues. “Aunt Marta and Tiana.”
    I nod.
    “And you ended up getting into Stanford, something you wouldn’t have done if you’d stayed here in Parkfield instead of going to St. Pious.”
    I nod again.
    He stands up, carries his plate and milk