It had been so long since Layla Bennet had heard those words that her eyes watered. Nick had always been an independent child. So much so that it seemed he'd stopped needing her at age seven.

But not knowing how it had happened, she suddenly found herself in her son’s arms, and he was squeezing her harder than she expected in a tight embrace.

“Please help me, Mom.”

“Stupid brat.” Layla half-laughed and half-sobbed, hugging him back. “What do you say?”

“I'm sorry, Mom,” Nick murmured. “I'm sorry for everything. I had no idea. Forgive me.”

Layla sighed, closing the door.

“Well...that's a good start,” she said, catching her son's face and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Go take a bath. You stink like an alcoholic skunk, and let me make you breakfast.”

Nick couldn't smile. It was all too much for him what he was going through. Fifteen minutes later he was eating at his mother's breakfast bar like he hadn't done in over twenty years.

“What are you going to do now, Nick?”

“I have n