Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Mascen
The cigarette smoke clogs my throat, nearly choking me. I didn’t intend to suck down three in a row after walking out of Marcelo’s but here we are. Leaning against my car, I know I need to go and stop hanging out in the parking lot like a creep. I wanted to figure out which vehicle belongs to Rory— Aurora —but since they’re all pretty basic it could be any of them. My first instinct said the yellow Volkswagen beetle belonged to her, but the longer I’ve stood here in the dark like a fucking creep the more certain I become that it’s the clunker truck parked in the corner. Pathetically sad and abandoned just like her.
Finishing the last of the cigarette I toss it to the ground with the others.
Reaching for my car door, I get inside, but I still don’t fucking leave. I will myself to put my car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge, but my limbs don’t listen. I sit frozen, watching patrons trickle from the restaurant into the lot.
Alessa was the first female contact in my phone, and I remembered briefly her slipping me her number last year after a game. She was a cheerleader—trim body, okay face, nice tits. I thought she’d be a good distraction, and I’d planned to take her to a hotel—I didn’t bring chicks home, ever—but I hadn’t been prepared for fucking Rory to be working there. Our waitress no less.
It instantly pissed me off seeing her. The whole reason I was there with Alessa in the first place was to get my mind off of her. Then she opened her mouth and started insulting me in amusing little ways. I enjoyed it way too much. I liked her barbs, the way her tongue lashed out at me. God, how I wanted to tame that mouth of hers.
I smack the heel of my hand against the steering wheel in frustration.
I shouldn’t spare Rory another one of my thoughts, but I know it’s a lie if I say I won’t.
She’s creeping under my skin little by little—a nagging itch I can’t and won’t scratch.
My phone starts ringing. Digging into my pocket I pull it out and find my mom calling. I’m not really in the mood or any shape to talk to her, but I answer anyway. She’s my mom after all—besides with her super freaky mom powers she’d know if I was purposely ignoring her.
“Hey,” I answer, my voice a little deeper than normal.
Her voice comes through the car speaker. “How’s my baby boy?”
I grin at her words. Leave it to my mom to make me feel better with only a few words. “Uh … okay.”
I back out of the parking lot, pulling onto Main Street. “That doesn’t sound very convincing. Is this a bad time?”
“No, no it’s fine.”
“I just wanted to let you know I mailed you a care package today. I made blondies since they’re your favorite. I also packed some tea packets for you—chamomile, chai, and that sleepytime tea you love. Oh, and I figured out how to make my own blends so I sent you one of those as well to try. If you like it I’ll send more.”
Her rambling brings a smile to my face. I love that even though I’m twenty and living away from home most of the year, she still looks out for me. Others might find it annoying, but I like that my mom wants to be an active part of my life.
Am I throwing a little shade at my dad? Hell yeah.
“There are some other surprises in there too,” she adds when I don’t speak.
“Thanks, Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep an eye out for the package.”
“You don’t sound right—and don’t even think about telling me I’m wrong. I’m your mother. I know you better than you know yourself.”
The light turns red and I slow to a stop. “It’s nothing.”
She clucks her tongue. “Mascen, talk to me.”
I watch the cars driving through the intersection, knowing with each passing second that she’s growing more worried, imagining something far worse than the reality.
“Do you remember Rory?” My voice drops like someone might overhear me.
“Rory?”
“Aurora—Rory Abbott, from next door.” Next door is a stretch since there were several acres of land between our homes.
“Oh, the Abbotts,” she blurts, her voice ringing with clarity. “Yes, I remember them. You two were good buddies. What about it?”
“I saw her.”
“You saw her?” she repeats. “Where? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Positive.”
“Huh…” she trails off, and even though I can’t see her I have no doubt that she’s wearing her thinking face. “It was so sad how all that happened.”
“Mhmm, yeah,” I mumble. The light changes and I drive forward.
“So, what about her? I’m assuming there’s more,” she prompts, like I unfortunately knew she would.
“She goes to my school. She goes here . To Aldridge.”
It’s like I’m trying to remind myself that she’s in this town, at my school, in my space.
“Oh, wow.” Another pause. “That’s surprising.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agree.
“I’m surprised that poor girl hasn’t changed her last name.”
“Maybe she has, I know I would.” Sometimes I wish I could. It’s harder being a Wade than people realize. Pulling into the driveway I push the button for the garage and roll inside. “I’m home, so I’m going to go. Coach wants us up for conditioning early.”
“All right, I’ll let you go then. I love you.”
“Love you too, Momma.”
When I lay my head on the pillow that night, dreams of a little girl invade my mind, her brown pigtails swinging, pink glasses sitting crooked on her nose.