Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
PRESENT DAY
Mom’s feeling better, so we can finally go out to celebrate my birthday. I’ve never been more grateful for a distraction, and birthdays with her are nothing short of all-consuming.
She and I have two big “holidays” outside of the regular ones. My birthday and the anniversary of my dad’s death.
We recognize them in different ways, obviously.
For the anniversary of Dad’s death, it’s quiet. Growing up, she surprised me with gifts outside my bedroom door each year, just to let me know she was thinking of me. And since I left home, she has always managed to have something delivered to me wherever I am.
We’ve never once actually acknowledged the tradition—talking about the hard stuff has never been our thing—but the sentiment means so much more than any words could.
And for my birthday, it’s our anniversary, she likes to remind me. So why wouldn’t we go all out? Skipping school, beach trips, concerts, shopping sprees…the sky’s the limit for our one special day a year.
This year, it’s probably the quietest birthday celebration we’ve ever had, and somehow, it’s exactly what I need. Quiet feels safe. Predictable.
No almost-kisses in kitchens.
No loaded sentences I can’t put meaning to.
Just food and my mom and a few hours pretending everything isn’t unraveling.
We drive a few towns over for brunch, stop by some of our favorite stores, and then go to a bakery and eat as much cheesecake as we can possibly stand.
Then it’s back to shopping.
“How are you and Will getting along?” Mom asks, giving me a sidelong glance as we pilfer through clothing racks at yet another store. She pulls the collar of her shirt up, barely catching her cough in time. She swore to me she was feeling up to this, but she’s still not fully recovered.
Guilt gnaws at me. Maybe I should’ve insisted she rest for another day or two.
“Fine,” I say instinctively. He’s the last thing I want to talk about right now. But I can’t help myself. “Same old Will.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh, you know. He’s just…hot and cold, I guess. One minute we’re getting along, and the next he’s…Will again.” The rest of that sentence comes to me, but I don’t say it aloud. Like he remembers we’re supposed to hate each other. Then panics when we don’t.
We’re both guilty of it. The memories flash through my mind. Years and years of drawing blood just because we can, then letting down the walls only to snap them right back up.
I draw in a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the present.
“Anyway, Cory said he has a friend with townhomes downtown, so he’s supposed to be getting me their info.
I toured an apartment Tuesday after work, but it was, like, twenty minutes farther to the school, so I think I’m going to pass on it. ”
“Well, don’t rush into anything,” Mom says, watching me carefully. “Will’s always been Will, especially when it comes to you, but I know he’s happy you’re home. He’s always happiest when you’re around.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Trust me. I’ve seen him when you’re not here, remember?” She pins me with a glare, and I quirk a brow.
“Explain.”
“He’s quieter. Edgy. Moodier than normal. But when you walk into the room?” She gives me a look, and I realize I’m holding my breath. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Mom.” I balk.
She sighs, tilting her head with a laugh.
“When you come around, it’s like someone has plugged that boy into an outlet.
You never saw it, but the rest of us did.
Margie, Ruth, even Cory. He cares about you.
And we both know you care about him too.
” There’s no room for negotiation in her tone, so I don’t try.
I press my lips together to avoid saying too much, then remember my news. “Hey, speaking of Cory, he, um, sort of asked me out today.” The words feel strange in my mouth. As if I’m testing them. Waiting for lightning to strike.
Mom’s eyes widen. “Cory?”
I nod, trying to gauge her reaction.
“Sort of?” Her brows draw down.
“Well, he asked if it would be weird if he did. You know, like, officially.”
“And what did you say?”
I grab a shirt from the rack, examining it. “I haven’t figured out what to say yet.” Because saying yes feels wrong. But saying no…well, it feels a little bit like admitting something I’m not ready to admit.
“You know I love Cory,” Mom says, though her tone is hesitant.
I get the feeling she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but that confuses me.
Honestly, I thought she’d be thrilled to see me with either of Margie’s boys.
She and Cory have a great relationship, and she knows he’d treat me well. He always has.
And yet…
“You don’t think I should say yes,” I say, guessing.
She meets my eyes then, stopping her search for a shirt momentarily.
Her gaze holds mine like she’s weighing her thoughts, deciding which to share.
“It’s not that. He and Miranda have a lot of issues.
Custody of Richie being one of them, but the divorce was messy.
If you get involved with him, you’re signing up to deal with all of it.
” She purses her lips, carefully choosing her next words.
“He’s my son in every way except blood, both the boys are.
I would do anything for them. I just…well, for being the older brother, I think he’s still got a lot of growing up to do.
And I don’t love the idea of you getting tangled up in—or hurt by—his mess.
” She watches me for another beat, then adds, “Cory leads with his heart. That’s beautiful.
But it also means he doesn’t think about who might get hurt in the fallout. ”
I swallow and look away. Will has hinted at drama between Cory and his ex-wife, but I hadn’t put too much thought into it. And today I’ve been doing my best not to think about it at all. Because thinking about it leads to thinking about Will, and thinking about Will can only end badly.
Especially after the past twenty-four hours. We’ve come so close to crossing our imaginary lines. And how could we ever find our way back from that?
Whatever I decide, I don’t want to hurt Cory.
Before I can say anything else, there’s a faint buzzing sound. Mom looks down, digging in her purse. She pulls out her phone.
“It’s Will.”
My pulse jumps like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
She swipes her finger across the screen. “Will, honey? Is everything okay?”
The blood drains from her face, and at once, my vision tunnels. Something’s wrong.
“Where are you?” Her voice drops. Sharpens. There’s a short pause. “We’ll be right there. Stay with her.”
Stay with her. The words punch through me even before I understand them.
“What happened?” My voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else.
Mom’s eyes are glassy, glimmering with fresh, unexpected tears as she responds. “It’s Margie. Will found her at the house this morning. She’s… We have to go. Now.”