19. Clara
CLARA
Itexted Cole when I left work, just like he asked me to.
But as I pull up to the house and text him again to let him know that I’m home, I can’t help but notice there’s no reply to my first message.
Not even a read receipt. Why ask me to text you if you’re not even going to respond?
Maybe it was just his polite way of acting like he gives a shit.
Shaking my head, I place my phone into my purse and hop out of the car, trying not to think too much about the real reason Cole had to leave the club so abruptly.
I don’t want to think that he’s a liar, but his lack of response is doing little to dispel the thoughts that have no business taunting me, like the thought that he left because he received some sort of late-night booty call he simply couldn’t say no to.
He’s a single, twenty-six-year-old bull rider for god’s sake.
What the hell would he want with a thirty-three-year-old single mom?
God, I have no right in feeling whatever it is these feelings are currently churning in my chest.
The front door opens when I make it up the porch steps, and I’m surprised to see Mrs. Shaw—Mama Joy—standing in the doorway smiling at me through the screen. Poor woman has probably been waiting for me so she can go home.
“Hi, I’m so sorry,” I say, walking inside. “I got held up because there was a mix up with breaks and I had to work an extra thirty minutes to cover for—”
“Oh, hon.” Mama Joy tuts, waving a hand. “I just made tea. You want a cup?”
I falter a step, looking around. The house is quiet, dimly lit by nothing but the floor lamp in the corner of the small living room, an open book lying on the sofa where I assume Mama Joy had been sitting when I pulled up.
She was waiting for me. But not so she could leave.
I feel an unfamiliar tug in my chest as I release a relieved breath.
“I’d love a tea,” I say, placing my bag down.
Following Mama Joy into the kitchen, my smile lingers as I glance at the small table, finding a half-finished game of Monopoly spread out, a coloring book I’ve never seen before, next to what looks to be a brand-new box of crayons.
“Just a few things I brought from home,” Mama Joy says, noticing where I’m looking.
“Oh, thank you.” I smile. “I don’t even think the kids have ever seen Monopoly before.”
She chuckles a throaty laugh as she pours steaming water into two cups. “Billie tried for a while, but then she gave up and started coloring. But ol’ Tommy is quite the budding property mogul.” She waggles her eyebrows and I sniff a laugh because that sounds like my boy.
“Actually, I have a lot of stuff up at the house,” Mama Joy continues, walking around the counter and carefully handing me one of the mugs. “I can drop ’em by.”
“Oh, thanks. But you don’t have to do that.”
She waves another hand. “I could never bring myself to get rid of anything after the kids all left. I’d hoped maybe one day Austin might meet someone he can stand for longer than five minutes and maybe start a family… but—” She sighs. “It’s just collectin’ dust. Does Billie like Barbie dolls?”
I can’t help but scoff because the question is almost rhetorical. “She sure does.”
Sadness rolls through me and I force my gaze down at my mug, thinking of all the things Billie and Tommy were forced to leave behind.
“I’ve got a whole box of ’em in the attic,” Mama Joy continues, pulling me from my thoughts. “My Millie would love to see ’em go to someone with almost as much sass as she has.”
I want to decline, because when we leave, we’re not going to be able to take everything with us, but then I remember what Cole said to me last night about accepting help so, instead, I manage an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
“Come on, now”—Mama Joy links her arm through mine—“let’s go sit out and enjoy the moonlight.”
We walk outside and take a seat next to one another on the steps. The silence around us is calm and easy, the night air warm and thick, carrying with it the scent of redbuds that I’ve grown to love.
“Were the kids behaved?” I ask.
“Oh, baby, those two kids of yours are the most well-behaved, sweetest, polite not just children, but human beings I’ve ever come across in my sixty-four years on this here earth.”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but beam with pride, smiling down at my tea. “They’re pretty great.”
“Cole said you don’t know how long you’re gonna be in town for.”
My smile slips at the question in Mama Joy’s words, and I don’t chance a look at her as I say, “As soon as I have enough money saved up, we’ll be back on the road.”
“Where y’all headed?” she asks so innocently, but something tells me she knows. I glance at her to find my suspicions confirmed, her smile wry yet understanding.
“I thought I knew,” I say honestly, voicing the thoughts that have been plaguing my mind the last few days especially.
“But now?” she presses in a way that doesn’t feel suffocating or pushy, but makes me comfortable enough opening up to her.
I release a sigh, my shoulders sagging. “Now, I’m not so sure.” With a smile, I look out over the yard. “I never thought in a million years we’d end up in Texas but… I don’t know… this place isn’t so bad.”
Mama Joy doesn’t say anything, but her silence is noisy in a way that makes me look at her. And, when I do, I see something she wants to say but doesn’t for some reason.
“What is it?” I arch a brow, waiting.
“Billie said somethin’ tonight,” she begins and immediately my hackles are up. She must notice because she’s quick to place a hand on my arm. “Nothin’ bad, baby, I promise you. She said she likes it here.” Mama Joy smiles. “She said she don’t wanna leave.”
I clamp my bottom lip between my teeth, looking down.
It’s not surprising. Billie has been so happy here.
And Tommy is thriving, coming out of his shell for the first time in what feels like ever.
But staying here? In Texas? If they’re happy here then who am I to take that from them?
Everything I’m doing, I’m doing it for them. God knows I’ve already taken enough.
“This place and the people in it ain’t perfect, baby, but I’ve lived a happy life here, raised three amazin’ kids,” Mama Joy continues. “It’s home, y’know?”
I nod because I do know. “We’ve only been here a few weeks, and this place feels more like a home than anywhere else.”
“So then why you runnin’, baby?”
I look up from my tea, meeting Mama Joy’s kind eyes and I can tell, again, without saying anything she knows.
Squeezing my arm, she winks at me. “You stay in Summer, and I promise you, you and those babies of yours are safer here than anywhere else in the whole damn world.”
I slide into bed, allowing my body to relax for the first time today.
Mama Joy stayed for a little while and we talked some more while we finished our tea. When she left, she hugged me in a way I can’t remember ever being hugged. Like a hug from a mom. Or at least how I assume a hug from a mom might feel. Mine peaced out when I was three; how the hell would I know?
After Mama Joy left, I locked up and had a nice long shower. Now, despite the time, and the fact that I worked six hours straight on my feet in ankle-breaking heels, I’m not tired. There are so many thoughts swirling around in my head, I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.
I think about what Mama Joy said. About staying.
As far as I see it, we have two options.
We could stay in Summer for a little longer, I could save up some more money from my tips at the club, and then we could be back on the road.
I already have close to a thousand bucks.
A couple more shifts, and we could be in a better financial situation than we were before we left West Virginia.
Or, we could just stay. Here in Summer. Indefinitely.
The problem with leaving is I don’t know where we’re going.
The goal was to get as far away from Cain as we could.
Texas was never part of the plan. In fact, if there’d been a list, I don’t even think Texas would’ve made the cut.
I was thinking California. Somewhere warm, with a lot of people around to take the focus away.
But at least here, there are people who are kind, people who want to help.
If we do leave and go someplace new, maybe the people won’t be as nice.
My father always said you’re only one bad decision away from ruining the rest of your life.
He was a glass half-empty kind of guy. The only problem is, when you make a decision, you don’t know until after it’s made whether it was right or wrong, good or bad.
The ultimate gamble. If we leave, there’s a whole heap of what ifs and not a lot of pros to go with the possible cons.
The most important thing of all is that Tommy and Billie are safe.
Maybe with a few more shifts at Meow’s I’ll have enough for first and last on our own place.
I know Cole said we can stay as long as we want, but this is his house.
If we’re going to stay in Summer, then we need to plant our own roots, make our own home.
At the thought of Cole, I roll onto my side and grab my phone from the nightstand.
There’s still no reply from him. And not only am I kind of annoyed because first of all, why was he even at the club tonight, and second of all, why did he practically demand I text him if he wasn’t going to text me back?
But more than annoyed, I’m worried. If it was just a booty call, then maybe he’s asleep.
If it really was work, then maybe there’s something wrong.
I decide to text him again.
Me: I hope you’re okay.
I stare at the words. I want to add more.
Like why did you ask me to text you if you’re not going to respond?
I already did the whole manipulative control thing with Cain; I don’t need to do it again with you.
But, instead, I don’t send anything at all.
I delete the message, switch the phone to silent and lock it, falling back onto the pillows with a huff.
And as I look up at the night shadows as they dance across the ceiling, I try so hard not to think about Cole, only to fail miserably.