Chapter 23
“Your mother’s calling.”
Immediately I come to full wakefulness, only to groan and shove my face under my pillow. The movement dislodges Arugula, who stumbles off of it, but I’m frustrated enough that I only feel a little bad.
“Tell her I’m dead.”
“She wants to video call, and I don’t know how I’d prove that.”
My next grumble makes Shiloh chuckle. He smoothes my hair back from my face and sits down on the bed behind me to pull me out from under the pillows. “Come on. It’s your mom. It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, it can.” But I sit up and glare at the sunlight outside, noting that it’s probably close to when I normally get up if I know how to judge time by the position of the sun.
“Okay. Do I look okay?” Shiloh’s raised brows are answer enough and I groan before taking the phone from his hand.
I’ve missed three calls from my mom, all of them with a video request involved so I let out an unhappy breath before calling her back.
The camera pops up, showing me that I look pretty dreadful, and I don’t look up from the phone as Shiloh gets to his feet to make his way towards the bathroom.
It occurs to me after he’s closed the door that falling asleep had made me miss out on a lot of opportunities to try and get that towel off of his waist. Hell—maybe if I’d been up earlier, I could’ve seen him naked, if I were so lucky as the towel coming off in his sleep.
But now, I’ll never know.
My mom’s face appears on the screen, causing my heart to sink in expectation.
The calls are never fun, and I wish I could get back the feeling I used to have as a teenager when I was excited over my mom calling.
She looks up at me, seeming tired, and behind her I can see the light streaming through the kitchen window.
“Hey there, hon,” my mom greets with a smile. “Did I wake you up? Did you oversleep?”
I fight not to roll my eyes. While my mother has always held me to the standard of getting up early like she does, somehow that same expectation was never passed onto my brother, who I’m willing to bet is passed out in his gaming chair covered in Doritos and body odor.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” My phone shows me that it’s only seven, and that alone is enough to send a bolt of irritation down my spine. I make my own hours, for one. And also, she has no right to judge me when I make more than Evan ever will. “How are you, mom?”
“I’m good, I’m good. Your dad’s been trying to get the yard mowed for the last time this season. With all the rain we’ve been having, he’s barely able to keep up with it.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes fondly. “You know your dad. God forbid the grass go an extra few days and get shaggy.”
That brings a small, genuine smile to my lips and I cross my legs up under me before leaning back against the head of the bed. “Are you guys doing the trunk-r-treat at the church this year?” With Halloween pretty close, I’m sure they’ve already got everything figured out.
She huffs a sigh before answering. “Well, I’d hoped so. But your brother doesn’t want to help.” He never does, so I’m not sure why this is some kind of revelation. “I thought if you came down for your birthday we could do it. But Evan says you don’t want to spend it with us this year.”
Ouch. That stings more than it should, given that the only reason I don’t want to go home is to avoid the kind of lecture I know I’ll get about my job.
Or the lack of one, according to my parents.
While it’s okay for Evan to sit and rot in his bedroom, I’m not allowed to.
I’m expected to make something of myself, though my current job apparently doesn’t count.
“It’s not that,” I’m quick to say. “Really, it is so not that. My friends have plans and they’ve been looking forward to it all year.” God, this is a lie, but I don’t know what else to say. “And because it’s Halloween, and—”
“You don’t have to lie.” My mom’s smile is full of pathetic valor.
Like she’s soldiering on through wounds inflicted by others, when the only reason she’s ever a victim is because of her own narcissism.
“Really, Persephone. If you don’t want to spend it with us this year.
That’s okay. I know we’re not cool like you.
I’m sure it’s boring to come back here when you have all those places to party in Chicago.
” She laughs ruefully, though it’s a put on tone.
“I’m not sure what I did to end up with a party-loving daughter, though. I didn’t think I raised you that way.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I don’t glance up when the bathroom door opens.
From the corner of my eye I can see Shiloh clothed, which is a relief and a disappointment, but probably more of a relief given my situation.
I’m not sure I could hide my drool if he was strolling around here with everything out.
“I’m not lying.” I sigh, and run my hand through my hair. My shoulders are achey again, like she’s actively putting more and more weight on them the longer she stares at me on the other side of the phone. “And you know I don’t like to party, Mom. I never have—”
“I find I don’t know much about you at all anymore,” she sighs.
“So I don’t know what you like. You never tell me.
Well.” She rolls her eyes and her frown deepens.
“All I know about you now is that you’re just obsessed with horror and scary things.
That’s what your blog or whatever is about, right?
You know I think the online blogs and content are fads that won’t be in style much longer. ”
I bite my tongue around the retort that the internet is, unfortunately, forever. “Well, I’m doing really well,” I try to say. “I’m keeping up with things, and—”
“I hope you’re setting money aside,” she interrupts, as if I wasn’t talking. “For when this goes under. And you can’t plan for Madison to take you in again.”
Wow. I don’t expect the blow, targeted towards a really vulnerable time in my adult life when I didn’t know where to go and needed help. Madison had taken me in for a month, and had told me I was always welcome with her and Brynn, though I’ve sworn not to go back.
But my mom bringing it up again hurts when she knows how much I’ve worked to be out of a phase of my life where I need charity from my friends.
I want to change the subject, but all I can do is sit there and stare at her, my expression melting like ice cream in the sun.
I don’t know how to change the subject, or what to change it to.
She always manages to change everything to an insult, or to be about her, or about how she suffers more than anyone else could ever possibly suffer. I just want—
“Is that your mom?” Shiloh’s voice comes from the doorway, and when I look up at him, I find him meeting my gaze levelly, his arms crossed as he leans in the doorway.
He knows it is, and his voice is loud enough for her to easily hear, so I know this is an act, though I have no idea what for.
When I don’t reply he raises his brows and inclines his head.
“Y-yeah,” I say stupidly, finally sitting up. “It’s—”
“Persy, you know I’ve been begging you to meet your parents for like, three weeks.
” His tone is charming and full of casual light-heartedness as he turns on the light and comes over to the bed to sink down on it beside me.
His head goes to my shoulder, his smile beaming and disarming.
“Hi Mrs. Gallows!” he greets in the most chipper tone I’ve ever heard from him.
Though his fingers drumming against my wrist on the bed are enough to ground me and make me want to act normal.
My mom just stares at him, nonplussed and dumbfounded. “Are you…?” She looks between us pointedly.
“I’m Shiloh.” Somehow, his smile manages to crank up to eleven, until I’m sure the light of God can be seen between his teeth. “She hasn’t really told you about me, has she?” His question is followed by a little snicker and a glance at me that radiates fondness.
“She has not.” My mother, distracted, seems to be a bit mollified by his presence. She sneaks a look at me, as if Shiloh can’t see, before looking at him. “Where did you meet?”
I listen as Shiloh makes up a grandiose story about meeting at a haunt, how his friends had chickened out and he’s latched onto me. I even nod at the appropriate times, until my mother is so charmed by him that his next words are met without opposition.
“I want to take her somewhere special for her birthday,” Shiloh admits, sounding a little shy as he rolls his shoulders. “I thought I’d take her to the shore where my dad used to take my mom before she died.”
Silently I applaud. That’s a very nice, very romantic touch, and my mother is clearly swooning for it.
“Oh.” She smiles, but bites it back. “Oh, of course. We get it. I’ll tell your dad, and he’ll be thrilled for you, Persy. But I can’t believe you hadn’t told me about Shiloh before!” she admonishes playfully, to which I only laugh lightly in uncomfortable agreement.
“Sorry. It’s still sort of new—” Shiloh kisses me on the cheek, surprising me into a real, genuine smile of surprise. I can feel my mother’s approval radiating from my phone, and Shiloh grips my wrist, thumb stroking over my pulse. “We’re going to breakfast. Is it okay to let you go?”
“Absolutely. Tell Madison and Brynn I say hi. I’ll tell your dad the same.
And Evan.” Though she pauses before bringing up my brother, so I know he hasn’t had much good to say about me lately.
I suspect he’s been stalking my blog and only relaying the bad parts and comments to my mom.
Hell, maybe he showed them the picture Miscreant Manor had posted of me with the drawn on ears and whiskers. That’s something he’d do.
My mom hangs up on me after exchanging goodbyes with both of us, but instead of letting me get up, Shiloh moves to pin me down against the bed where he suddenly kisses me with so much affection that my teeth hurt.
Instinctively my arms come up around his shoulders, and I find myself drawing him down towards me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“How did you do that?” I breathe, my hands carding through his hair.
“Do what?” he asks without pulling away or breaking our kiss.
“Charm her like that. You were so different. Like…like you were playing a character or wearing a mask.”
He chuckles, his kiss deepening. “Because I have a couple of things I’m very, very good at. Charming mothers is one of them. Now.” He sits up and pulls me up as well, his eyes dancing. “Are you going to go get ready?”
My smile falls. “Ready for what?”
“You told your mom I was taking you out for breakfast, remember.” He hoists Arugula off the bed before the cat can climb onto me, letting the cat nuzzle his face. “So let’s go.”
“Oh.” I blink up at him like he’s the patron saint of dating. And in this light, while holding a fluffy cat, he really does look like it. “I wasn’t being serious.”
“I know.”
“And I have like, a lot of concerns about this ‘relationship.’ Since you’re a murderer and all.”
His grin grows, twisting his lips. “I know. But maybe ask me in the car, or when we’re not in public.”
“Yeah?” I get to my feet and look around for a change of clothes that are reasonably clean. “You don’t want me to ask about your body count in the middle of somewhere like The Waffle Wagon?”
His snort has me glancing up at him again, where he’s smiling with Arugula’s paw on his nose. “I think for your sake, you should withhold your curiosity,” he assures me. “If you value your chocolate covered waffles, anyway.”