Master of Lust-Chapter 224: Rick and his mother

Chapter - 224

The car finally rolled to a stop, the engine's purr fading into silence. Rick stepped out of the Range Rover, taking a moment to stretch his legs. His father followed suit, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Rick reached into the back seat, carefully retrieving a bouquet of white orchids and a six-pack of beers. He adjusted his shirt, straightened his posture, and took a deep breath before crossing the road, his father trailing a few steps behind.

They walked through the green fields, the tall grass swaying gently in the cool breeze of the early evening. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape that seemed almost magical. The sky was a canvas of orange, pink, and purple hues, creating a serene and ethereal atmosphere.

"It's beautiful out here," Rick's father remarked, breaking the comfortable silence as they walked. "Makes you appreciate the little things, doesn't it?"

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"Yeah, it does," Rick replied, his voice soft with a hint of nostalgia. "Feels like a different world out here."

The gravel path crunched under their feet, the sound blending harmoniously with the distant chirping of crickets. As they continued to walk, the breeze picked up slightly, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. The air was crisp and fresh, the scent of wildflowers mingling with the earthy aroma of the fields. Rick took in a deep breath, savoring the purity of the air.

After a few minutes of walking, Rick finally stopped. In front of him stood a solitary tombstone amidst the greenery, simple yet dignified. The inscription read, "In Loving Memory of Mary Smith."

Rick's father stood back, respecting Rick's need for privacy as he approached his mother's grave. Rick paused, taking in the sight of his mother's resting place, feeling a rush of emotions well up inside him. The memories came flooding back—her warm smile, the sound of her laughter, the way she always seemed to know exactly what to say to make everything better.

He knelt down, placing the bouquet of white orchids gently against the tombstone. Their delicate petals contrasted sharply with the cold, hard stone, a reminder of life's fragility. Rick then opened the pack of beers, taking one out and cracking it open. He poured some of the beer onto the ground, letting it soak into the earth around the grave—a small, informal libation for his mother.

"Hey, Mom," Rick began, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I know it's been a while. I'm sorry for not coming more often. Things have been...well, you know how life gets. Busy and complicated."

He paused, taking a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. The guilt of not visiting more often weighed heavily on him. He felt a lump form in his throat as he remembered the times they spent together—the late-night talks, the way she used to make his favorite meals, the comforting hugs that always seemed to come at just the right moment.

Rick sat down on the grass, leaning back against the tombstone as if seeking some form of comfort from its solid presence. He took a swig of beer, savoring the cool liquid as it slid down his throat. He glanced up at the sky, the colors deepening as the sun continued to set.

"I brought you your favorite," Rick said with a small smile, holding up the beer can. "You always did love a good beer, didn't you? I remember you used to joke that beer was the best medicine for any problem. I'm starting to understand what you meant now. Sometimes, it's the little things that get you through the tough days." freёweɓnovel.com

He paused, looking out at the fields as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. "I'm doing okay, I guess. Got a good job, making some decent money. Even bought myself a fancy car," he added with a chuckle. "Well, that's what I tell everyone, at least. But you know the truth, don't you, Mom?

Heh, always knew you could see right through my bravado."

He sighed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, the cool evening air filling his lungs. "You would probably laugh and call me a show-off, but I know you'd be happy for me. You always were my biggest cheerleader, no matter what."

Rick took another sip of beer, feeling the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. "I miss you, Mom. More than I can put into words. There are days when I wish I could just pick up the phone and hear your voice. You always knew how to make things better, even when everything felt like it was falling apart."

His voice broke slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "So much has happened since the last time I was here. Sometimes I feel like I'm just running around in circles, trying to keep up with everything. Life keeps throwing curveballs. There are moments when I feel completely overwhelmed."

"But I know you would probably tell me to slow down and enjoy the little things," Rick said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You always did have a way of making everything seem so simple."

He glanced around, taking in the tranquil surroundings before looking back down at the tombstone. "Want to know something, Mom? Hehehe," Rick traced the letters of her name with his fingers, feeling the cool, rough texture of the stone. "I kissed Olivia today," he confessed, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "It was... intense.

I don't know what it means or where it's going, but I felt something, Mom. Something real. And it scares the hell out of me."

He paused, letting the gravity of his admission sink in. "I am sure you would be shocked," he added, laughing dryly. "After all, she was your friend."

"But remember when I told you I was going to marry her one day?" Rick grinned, recalling the playful yet serious promise he'd made as a child. "You laughed it off, thought it was just a young child's joke. But I meant it, even back then."

"Your fault, not mine."

Rick shook his head, his grin widening. " But I am sure you would probably tell me to stop overthinking and just go for it. 'Follow your heart, Rick,' you would say. And I would roll my eyes and tell you to stop acting so cool all the time."

He could almost hear her voice, giving him that advice with a wink and a smile. The thought brought a warmth to his heart, a reminder of her unwavering support.

Rick sighed, feeling a sense of calm settle over him. "I promise I'll visit more often, Mom," he said softly. "I won't let so much time pass between visits. You deserve better than that. And I will try to be better. For you, and for me."

Rick placed a hand on the tombstone, feeling the cool, rough surface beneath his palm, a silent gesture of connection with the woman who had always been his guiding light. "I love you, Mom. Always will," he murmured softly, his voice filled with emotion. "Thanks for being my rock, even now. I'll see you soon."

He took one last look at his mother's grave, the setting sun casting a golden halo around it, making it seem almost ethereal. A sense of peace washed over him, knowing she was watching over him, guiding him from wherever she was.

Turning to his father, Rick spoke gently, "You can take your own time. I'll wait for you in the car."

"I'll be there soon," his father replied, his voice steady but filled with a quiet sadness. He turned back to the grave, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stood alone with his thoughts.

Rick nodded, understanding his father's need for privacy in this moment of reflection. He walked back to the car, the gravel crunching softly under his feet. Settling into the driver's seat, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his mind wandering through memories of his mother.

The sky gradually transitioned from the warm hues of sunset to a deep, velvety blue, the first stars beginning to twinkle in the night sky. Rick found a strange comfort in the celestial display, as if the stars were tiny beacons of hope.

After about ten minutes, he saw his father walking back, his pace slow and contemplative. Each step seemed heavy with unspoken words and lingering grief. When his father finally reached the car, he climbed in with a quiet sigh, the door closing with a soft thud.

The engine hummed to life, and Rick drove away, this time with no sense of urgency. The road ahead was dimly lit by the headlights, casting long, shadowy fingers across the gravel path from the overhanging trees. The silence in the car was thick but comfortable, a shared space for their thoughts and memories.

Rick's father leaned back in his seat, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Your mother loved sunsets," he began, his voice soft and filled with nostalgia. "We used to sit on the porch together and watch the sun go down. She'd always say it was the best part of her day."

Rick kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as he listened intently. His father's sudden openness was unexpected, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

"She had this way of making everything seem so... magical," his father continued, his voice tinged with a mix of sadness and fondness. "We'd sit there, sometimes for hours, just talking or sitting in silence, watching the sky change colors. She'd hold my hand and tell me about her dreams, her hopes for you, for us. It was her favorite time of day, those quiet moments we shared."

"Of course, it was before you were born."

Rick nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to keep his emotions in check. The ache in his chest mirrored the weight of his father's words. He glanced sideways, seeing the pain etched into his father's face, lines of regret and longing marking his features.

"I miss her so much," his father continued, his voice breaking slightly. "Every day, I wake up expecting to see her, to hear her laugh, to feel her warmth beside me. But she's not there. And it's like a part of me is missing, like a piece of my heart has been ripped away."

His father sighed deeply, the sound heavy with years of regret. "I know I wasn't the best husband or father," he admitted, guilt evident in his tone. "After I lost my job, I gave up on everything and everyone. I wasn't even doing what a man should do, providing for the family."

"I drowned myself in alcohol, fought with your mother who was doing all she could to raise you, never appreciated her for all the hardships she was going through. Never. I missed so many chances to be a better person with her, with you."

His father looked out the window, the passing trees blurring into a dark, continuous line. "I just wish I could go back, do things differently. Spend more time with her, with you. Tell her every day how much she meant to me."

Rick remained silent, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He had never heard his father speak like this, so raw and vulnerable, and it shook him to his core.

"Since your mother passed, I have felt so alone," his father admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might shatter him. "The house feels empty. I feel empty. And I'm scared, Rick. Scared of being alone forever."

Rick's heart clenched at his father's words. He had always seen his father as strong and unyielding, a pillar of their family. But now, he saw the cracks in that facade, the deep-seated sorrow and regret that had been hidden for so long.

His father gave a small, sad smile. "It's hard. Your mother was my world, and without her, everything feels... off."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes, the only sound the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The familiar streets of their neighborhood came into view, each house a quiet sentinel in the night. As they approached their home, Rick noticed something strange.

"Why are the lights on?" he asked, confusion tinging his voice. The house was brightly lit, every window glowing in the dark night. It was unusual.

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