20 | City callin
CLEMENTINE
I’m still watching Colton’s face when I answer, trying to read him even though he won’t quite meet my eyes. “That’s… that’s incredible. I just don’t know if I’m qualified—”
The woman on the other end clears her throat, brisk and businesslike, like she doesn’t have time for my doubts. “If you’re interested, it could fast-track into an apprenticeship. Travel stipend, housing allowance, mentorship with some of the best in the field. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”
My throat goes dry, tongue heavy. “It… sure sounds like it, yes.”
Colton shifts closer, not touching me but near enough I can feel the heat rolling off him. His eyes don’t move off me, steady and burning, like he already knows exactly what I’m about to do.
“When do you need my answer?” I ask, fumbling with the blouse tied around my waist. “I’m still on vacation, and I wasn’t supposed to head back for a few more weeks.”
She hesitates. “As I said, interviews start next week, but if you—”
It’s my turn to cut her off this time. “I’ll come in for the interview. Thank you so much for calling.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Her voice jumps two whole octaves, all sunshine and sparkle suddenly. “I’ll email you the details.”
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up.
Colton tips his head back, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Well, that sure as hell don’t help my case.”
I sigh, brushing back a lock of hair. “It’s just an interview. I probably won’t even get the job.”
He huffs a humorless laugh, low and rough. “They tracked you down while you’re on vacation. They want you, Tiny. Don’t pretend they don’t.”
Something scrapes against the inside of my ribs. “It’s a good opportunity,” I whisper.
“Sounds like it, baby.” His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me along the path. “Come on. I need to grab somethin’ from Mama’s place.”
Inside, he pulls out a chair for me. “Sit. I’ll be right back.” Before I can get a word out, he’s gone, the door creaking shut behind him.
Mama appears in his place like she’s been waiting for me. “Somethin’s weighin’ on you,” she says, eyes sharp enough to cut.
I try for a smile that doesn’t quite stick. “I guess it is.”
She lowers herself into the chair next to mine, joints creaking. “Out with it, sugar. Don’t let it sour your bones.”
I drop my elbows to the table, resting my chin on my hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
The words split something wide open inside me. A lump forms in my throat, tight and stinging, and before I can even fight it, tears spill hot and fast.
“Oh, baby. Come here.” Mama doesn’t hesitate, dragging my chair closer until I’m folded into her arms. Her dress smells like herbs and lavender soap, soft and safe, and the moment I press my face into her shoulder, the sobs rip out of me.
Mama doesn’t speak, she just holds me. Lets me unravel, piece by piece, until I feel scraped raw and empty.
When I finally come back to myself, hiccuping on the tail end of it, I pull away and swipe at my face. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I don’t know where that came from. I got a job offer—sort of—I should be happy.”
Mama’s smile is knowing, gentle as a summer breeze. “Congratulations, baby girl. Now tell me the rest.”
I hesitate, eyes darting toward the hallway Colton disappeared down.
Mama follows my gaze, then cups my hand tight. “Colton Matthew,” she calls, voice sharp as a whip.
I stiffen. “No, Mama, wait—”
Her hand lifts, silencing me.
Colton appears almost instantly, filling the doorway. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Get outta this house and don’t come back till I call for you.”
We both stare at her. “Mama, he didn’t—”
“Hush, girl. Colton, outside.”
He looks between us, jaw ticking, then nods once. “Yes, ma’am.” And just like that, he’s gone.
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” I murmur, throat still tight.
“I know, baby. That boy wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone you.” She pushes up, heading for the stove. “We need tea. Hot or cold?”
A watery laugh escapes me. “Hot, please.”
She nods, approving, and when she comes back, it’s with a tray balanced in her hands—a kettle, two mugs, a plate of cookies, the whole spread like we’re about to sit down for a Sunday picnic instead of a reckoning.
“Start talkin’, darlin’,” she says, sliding a mug toward me.
----
“And then they called, offering me my dream job.” My throat is parched from spilling it all. My hands clutch the untouched porcelain mug for warmth.
Mama pops her last bite of cookie into her mouth, chewing slow. “Your daddy must be proud.”
I tuck my hair back, guilty. “I haven’t told him yet—I only just got the call.”
“You been talkin’ to him much since you been here?”
I look away. “Not really. I’ve been busy with the house, and Grady and Jace…” My voice trails off.
“And my oldest boy,” Mama finishes slyly. “He’s been keepin’ you real busy, ain’t he?”
Heat burns through my cheeks. “You know the whole story now, Mama.”
“I’ve known the story all along, baby.” She winks, sipping her tea. “Now tell me—why you avoidin’ your daddy?”
“I’m not—” The word dies half-formed. “Maybe a little. I don’t even know why.”
She shakes her head, reaching across to press a cookie into my palm. “Clear as day to me. You just won’t admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re home, baby.”
The words land heavy, cold and hot all at once. “I’m not, Mama.”
Her voice softens, but her eyes don’t let me look away. “You look like you’re breathin’ for the first time in seven years. Loosened up right before my eyes. This is where home is for you.”
I stare at her, her words burrowing under my skin. It’s just nostalgia, I tell myself. Familiar smells, familiar dirt. That doesn’t mean I belong here.
Mama squeezes my hand. “Do you feel guilty for feelin’ at home here?”
“Of course not. It makes sense. I was born here. Why would I feel guilty?”
“’Cause your daddy’s voice became your own.”
I swallow hard. “What does that even mean?”
She leans back, sipping her tea like she has all the time in the world. “He told you so many times you were too big for this life, you started to believe him. He made his dream your burden.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the creak of the screen door stops me cold.
I turn, expecting Colton, but it isn’t him.
It’s Tessa.
The air shifts, thick and sharp.
We both bristle, like two cats meeting in a narrow alley. I stand before I even think about it.
“Sit.” Mama’s voice slices through the tension, sharper than I’ve ever heard. I drop back into the chair.
“You too, darlin’.” She points at the empty one. “But wash your hands first.”
Tessa huffs but obeys, disappearing into the kitchen. When she comes back, she’s holding a chipped cup, her glare aimed square at me as she drops into the seat.
I smooth the hem of my dress, glancing at Mama as if I’m waiting for instructions.
But Mama just pours Tessa tea, sets a cookie in front of her, and walks to the door. She pauses with her hand on the frame, looking back. “You two are talkin’ it out. Right now. Ain’t nobody leavin’ this house ’till it’s settled. I’ll make up a bed for you if I have to, Clementine Marie.”
I scowl, folding my arms.
Silence stretches thick as tar, pressing heavy on my chest.
Finally, I snap. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me, when you’re the one who slept with my boyfriend.”
Tessa’s head jerks up, eyes flashing. “Oh, that’s rich. You didn’t even love him. You’d been chasin’ my brother the whole time. Surprised you kept pretendin’ to be my friend as long as you did.”
My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall. “Don’t you dare. I loved you. You were my best friend. And then you took everything and painted me as the villain.”
“You did me wrong!” she fires back. “You left me, Clementine. My daddy died, and you just skipped on out of here and into your shiny new life. And you made damn sure to snag my brother first, just to twist the knife. You ruined everything.”
Her words cut deep, but I force myself to meet her glare. “I didn’t have a choice, Tessa. My dad dragged us to the city—what was I supposed to do? Stay here at twenty, marry some cowboy, pop out babies just to keep myself busy?”
“You think that’s all there is for women here?” she snaps. “That’s not even what your own mama did. Your daddy poisoned your mind with all that city talk.”
Her words sink in like thorns. I can’t even speak.
And then, just for a moment, something flickers softer in her gaze.
“You left me, Clementine,” she says, quieter but no less sharp.
The venom hurts, but the truth inside it hurts worse. I did leave her. My throat closes. “I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
----
Oooh they're talking about it... Do you think they can work things out? ????