26. Mallory
MALLORY
The front door clicked shut behind me, the TV in the next room traveling down the hall.
I dropped my bag by the stairs and followed the voices, finding Mom stretched across the couch, legs tucked beneath her and laptop balanced precariously on her knees.
Her fingers flew across the keys, a bowl of half-empty popcorn resting beside her on the cushion.
She glanced up as I walked in. “Hey, Malibu.”
I plopped heavily onto the opposite end of the couch and let out a long breath. It felt so good to be home.
Mom studied, her eyes moving over my face. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile that made me immediately suspicious. “So,” she said casually, reaching for the popcorn bowl and tossing a piece into her mouth. “How was school?”
“Long.”
She chewed slowly, still watching me with those eyes that missed nothing. “No make-out sessions with Maddox Corvo under the bleachers?”
I groaned. I’d forgotten about her finding Maddox in my bed this morning, but it was apparent she wasn’t ready to let me forget.
“What?” she said innocently, one brow lifting in perfect mock confusion. Her mouth twitched with barely suppressed laughter. “I just want to be apprised of my daughter’s extracurricular activities.”
I rolled my eyes, tucking my knees up onto the couch. “My life is not a Grease movie. No one is making out under the bleachers.”
“Right,” she said, offering me the popcorn. “You guys all have cars now. Much more convenient.”
I took the bowl. “Please stop talking.”
She laughed softly. “You like him, huh?”
“I think so.”
“It’s confusing. I get it. I’d like to tell you it gets easier as you get older, but that hasn’t been my experience.”
“Wonderful.” I tossed a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth.
“Before you go upstairs to do homework,” she said, closing her laptop, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” I said cautiously, not sure how I should be feeling. “Good or bad?”
“Good,” she said, but then tilted her head, her expression shifting slightly. “I think.”
That didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. The relief evaporated as quickly as it had come.
“The guy I’m seeing invited us over to his place for dinner next Sunday. I know you expressed an interest in meeting him, and I told him it was your decision, but I’d like you to come.”
“Oh.” I drew the word out, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Okay,” I agreed.
“His family will be there too,” she added.
I blinked. “His family?”
She nodded, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “He has kids. I haven’t met them yet either.”
I could tell she wanted them to like her. This was new for both of us. “They’ll love you. How can they not?”
“I know things are moving fast, but… It’s good. Really good. I’ve never felt this way about a guy before.”
How she said it with that mix of hope, fear, and something dangerously close to love made me worried.
Mom didn’t fall for people easily. And my nervousness had nothing to do with losing her to a guy but because of her past. She’d been hurt in a way that changed someone forever, in a way that made her distrustful.
Everyone handled trauma differently. Hers definitely wasn’t a healthy way to process all her anger, bitterness, and pain, but it was what she needed to heal, to feel safe—for both of us to feel safe.
Living in constant fear was not living.
I guessed that was what I was seeing in my mom for the first time. She was actually living instead of surviving.
I smiled. “I’m happy for you, Mom. Truly. No one deserves a happily ever after more than you.”
Her brows arched hesitantly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I assured, setting the bowl on the coffee table and reaching over to hug her. Her arms wrapped around me and squeezed. “And of course, I’ll go. I’ve been dying to meet the only guy in existence who managed to catch Mara Hales’s heart.”
She laughed brightly and unguardedly as I sat back. She grabbed a piece of popcorn from the bowl and tossed it at my forehead. “Smart-ass.” The smile on her lips didn’t fade.
A week went by, and things seemed to have settled into a resemblance to normal. But shit always had a way of stirring back up when you least expect it, rising from whatever grave you thought you’d buried it in.
I walked through downtown with a bag of takeout swinging lightly from my hand.
It was filled with Pad Thai and spring rolls from a Thai restaurant, which had become a favorite.
The air was cool against my skin, autumn asserting itself with increasing confidence.
Dusk settled over the town in that strange in-between hour where the streetlights flickered on one by one, but the sky hadn’t fully given up the last streaks of orange and purple bleeding across the horizon.
I was nearing the outskirts of downtown, just a few blocks from home, when I heard it.
A small sound. Thin. Fragile. Broken.
I slowed, my footsteps faltering mid-stride as the tiny cry sounded again. Tilting my head, I listened harder, trying to identify where it was coming from.
It came again, a pitiful little wail drifting from the narrow alley beside the restaurant. I should keep walking and head home, but my feet wouldn’t move, and if some little creature needed help, how could I turn my back?
“Hello?” I called softly, taking a tentative step toward the alley to make sure there wasn’t someone torturing the creature.
No answer.
Just another weak, pleading cry. If I had to guess, it was a helpless meow I kept hearing.
I hesitated for half a second, warning bells going off in the back of my mind. Every lesson Mom had ever taught me about staying out of dark spaces, about not investigating strange sounds, and about keeping my guard up.
Yet I stepped into the alley anyway.
I wrinkled my nose at the stench of old garbage festering in dumpsters. A single overhead bulb buzzed near the back door of the restaurant, casting long shadows stretching between the dumpsters. Darkness pooled in the corners where the light didn’t reach, thick and impenetrable.
The meow came again, pulling me deeper and growing a bit louder with each step.
I tracked it to a stack of wooden crates near the far wall, my eyes adjusting slowly to the dimness.
Stepping carefully around broken glass and puddles I didn’t want to identify, I spotted her.
A tiny gray kitten, no bigger than my hand, was wedged between two boxes haphazardly stacked.
From what little light I had, her fur appeared dirty and matted.
Her ribs were visible beneath her thin coat, as if she hadn’t eaten in days.
One ear twitched when she saw me, tracking my movement with huge green eyes.
“Hey there,” I whispered, my heart breaking at the sight.
I crouched slowly, setting the takeout bag down beside me.
The plastic crinkled too loudly in the quiet space, spooking her slightly.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, holding my hand out palm up, letting her see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She sniffed my hand, and it took almost no effort to scoop her up, my fingers sliding beneath her tiny body.
She was so light, weighing almost nothing, all fragile bones and matted fur.
Her tiny body trembled in my palms as I tucked her against my chest, careful not to squeeze.
Her cold nose pressed into the hollow of my collarbone, burrowing into my warmth as if she’d already decided I was someone she could trust.
“What are you doing out here all alone?” I asked, looping the takeout bag around my forearm so I could cradle her with both hands. “And now that I have found you, what am I supposed to do? I can’t leave you here.”
The kitten gave a tiny, rusty purr, vibrating through her miniature body.
I smiled despite everything, warmth flooding through me.
“I guess you’re coming home with me. We’ll get you cleaned up and something to eat.
Do you like Thai food?” I stood, the alley no longer feeling like somewhere I should be.
The darkness pressed in. It was time to get the hell out of here. Quickly.
Carrying my little furry companion, I stepped toward the alley exit, my boots splashing through a puddle, but I wasn’t the only thing moving through the alley.
Either the shadows were moving or I wasn’t alone.
Was that a footstep?
I froze, every muscle in my body locking as my pulse kicked violently against my ribs.
My eyes moved left and right, scanning between the dumpsters and checking the narrow spaces where someone could hide, but I spotted nothing, yet my skin prickled with awareness, goose bumps rising along my arms because I knew I was being watched.
Someone was here.
The kitten shifted nervously in my arms, her claws extending slightly, pricking through my shirt to touch skin. My heart pounded, blood rushing so loud in my ears it drowned out everything else. “Hello?” I called. “Is anyone there?”
Silence answered.
The kitten’s claws dug harder into my shirt, her tiny body going rigid with a fear mirroring my own.
“Is this your kitten?” I tried again, giving whoever was there an out, a reason to reveal themselves. “I just found her. If she’s yours—”
Still nothing.
I took a step backward, survival instinct overriding everything else. “I know you’re there,” I said, my voice braided with fear I couldn’t quite hide. “I can hear you breathing.”
Yeah, fuck this. This one-sided conversation is over. I’m out of here.
I spun so fast my bag of food swung wildly against my arm, but I bolted for the mouth of the alley, my boots slapping against wet concrete. The kitten jostled against my chest as I broke free of the alley, taking a sharp turn around the corner, and slammed straight into something hard.
A solid wall of muscle knocked the breath out of me. I stumbled backward, the impact jarring through my bones. The kitten hissed in my arms, and my takeout bag went flying, hitting the ground.