Chapter 20 #2
I never thought about that. Has he deleted surveillance every time he’s brought me here when his father is away on business trips? Maybe he bribes a guard or something at the gate? That would make sense, right?
We reach the circular drive. Ava pulls to a stop, and I unbuckle my seatbelt, wondering if this is such a good idea. We could turn around. There’s still time.
“Stop worrying,” Ava says as the belt slips through my hand. “Kane will be pleased to see you.”
“I should have messaged him and asked first.”
“When did you see him last?”
“A few days ago. He had to go away on some business out of town with Cash and the others.”
“Secret society business,” she states with a tight-lipped smile.
“Something like that. He wouldn’t tell me.”
“He’s protecting you.” She tips her chin at the estate. “Now go.”
I look out the passenger window, and my stomach tips again. A window is open on the upper floor, the white curtain billowing in the wind.
As I open the passenger door, Ava reaches back and grabs my wrist
I turn, surprised by the uncertainty in her gaze.
“Thank you,” she says.
I hesitate. “For what?”
“I just…” She releases my arm and looks away, clearing her throat. “I wasn’t always the nicest person.”
“It’s okay—”
She looks at me again. “No, it’s not okay. I didn’t like that version of myself. She hurt people, and I don’t want to be her anymore.”
I reach for her hand and she looks down at our fingers. Then she says in a low voice, “I feel more myself when I’m with you and your friends than I do when I’m around mine.”
I squeeze her hand.
If you’d told me six months ago I would befriend an heiress from the Heights, I wouldn’t have believed you. But honestly, I’m also tired of the girl I used to be.
So maybe we can both improve?
“Rain is never going to accept me, is she?”
I smile despite myself. “Rain doesn’t dislike you. She’s just protective. Hang in there and she’ll soon drop her walls.”
She smiles gently and then releases my hand to grab some tissues from the center console. “Go on?” she says, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “Leave before this becomes even more awkward.”
“Okay,” I reply, lingering. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Go!” She discards the tissue. The vulnerable woman from moments ago is gone, and her mask is firmly back in place. “Don’t leave your man waiting.”
Once I’ve exited the car and waved her goodbye, I turn around, almost wishing I hadn’t thought of surprising him. It had seemed like an ingenious idea at the time, but now I regret it. What if he thinks I’m clingy? Oh God, he’ll think I’m a stage-five clinger.
Determined to escape, I turn on my heel, but before I can take a step, a woman comes walking around the corner. Her dark hair is tied back, and she’s dressed in jeans and a plain black sweater. She looks to be in her forties, with tired eyes and a faint smile.
“I was looking for Kane,” I say and inwardly cringe. It wouldn’t surprise me if she could see right through me as she flurries past in a cloud of fresh air and faint perfume.
“He’s running an errand, but he’ll be back soon.” She shifts the basket in her hands before opening the door and stepping inside. When I hover uncertainly, she pops her head out and tells me to come in. “You can help me with dinner,” she suggests. “I’m Kane’s mom. It’s nice to meet you.”
I join her in the kitchen, and my eyes widen as I take in the cluttered surfaces. It’s been a while since my last visit. Everything was spotless then, but now it’s a chaotic mess.
I briefly worry that maybe we got it wrong and Kane’s father is home, but my worry doesn’t last long because she hands me the basket and asks me to wash the apples while she checks on the dish in the oven.
Kane has told me about his mother’s struggles with mental illness and how it keeps her bedridden for weeks, but no one can tell she’s struggling now. Her face is lit up with a radiant smile as she ties an apron around her waist and hums a song in her head.
She’s beautiful. I find myself watching her, struck by a painful ache that brings tears to my eyes.
It wasn’t that long ago I used to help my own mom prepare dinner, and we would work side by side in comfortable silence like this. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend I’m back there, but I’m not and it hurts.
I must have stopped washing the fruit without realizing it because suddenly she’s there, turning off the tap and drying my hands with a kitchen towel.
We look at each other, and she smiles softly before refocusing on the task. Her touch is gentle and motherly, and I find myself noticing her similarities to Kane.
Yes, he’s taller and broader, but he has the same soft smile and glimmer in his eyes when he lets his walls down. There’s no doubt he inherited his kind, nurturing soul from his mom.
“My son has told me a lot about you,” she says, setting the towel aside.
My heart stutters.
“He has?” I ask.
A knowing smile crosses her lips as she fusses over me like a mother would. “I guess I should thank you.”
“Thank me? Why?”
What could she possibly have to thank me for?
She cups my chin gently. “For making him smile again.”
Oh…