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“You're serious, aren't you?”

“It's an open invitation from me and my dad.”

Taking a deep breath, I can't stop myself from smiling. “I'll keep it in mind. Thanks, Cadence.”

“My pleasure. Feel free to call me anytime, okay?"

I stiffen. "Wait. Here, I got a new phone. Put your number in it." I pass her my little brick.

She has the grace not to tease me over how cheap it looks. She simply enters her number with a pleased grin. "Okay, done. Take care, Lori.” With a salute-like wave that extends over her head, she jogs over the sand with her dress fluttering in the wind. Water skates up the shore; she darts right through it, not caring she gets wet, her movements free of any burden.

Looking down at my palm, I stare at the sea glass. Then I hold it up to the sky, peering through the transparent color that reminds me of Jordan's eyes. He's a riddle I can't solve. His son is a monster I want to kill. Both threaten me in different ways. The weight of their presence, even when they aren't near me, presses me towards the center of the earth.

Someday, I hope I can move as freely as Cadence.

Chapter 12

Therosesareblooming.I wondered if they would. We planted the bushes when they only had thorns and buds, and most had shriveled, dying before they had a chance. That happens when you do things out of season.

But now they're beautiful—bigger than grapefruits and with petals that layer one on top of the other. I'm standing thirty feet away, but I can tell they're flourishing. I haven't given them much, just water from the automatic sprinkler system.

The soil is rich. Lots of nutrients.

Glancing over the patch of flowers that mixes with brush before melding into the lush tree line around my property, I see the small shed covered in a carpet of vines. Its surface is stained by weather, but it's a credit to quality that it's not worse off for something neglected so long.Things built with love are strong,I think.

Clutching the piece of sea glass, I push it into my pocket. I thought I had the guts to do this. I still don't.

“Lori?” My mother's voice carries over the breeze. I twist around, spot her standing on the back step of our little house. She's the size of my hand at this distance. I wave to show her I heard her. She must have seen my car roll up, and when I didn't go into the house right away, came to see what I was doing.

Here we go.

Pressing my tongue against my teeth to keep from chewing it, I walk toward the house. It's a single story structure painted light gray. The only pop of color is the yellow on the window frames and trim. We're far enough from the ocean that the sand on the wind can't reach us, but even without erosion our house suffers the effect of New England storms.

When I get close, I notice the gutters need to be updated. I'll add it to my list; I do everything that mom can't, or that I think she shouldn't. It's hard to stop her from taking action. The solution is to beat her to it.

She stares down at me from the step, arms pretzeled over her chest. She's still in the same pink blouse from the parade. “Why?” she asks directly.

“Please, Mom. Don't make me explain it.”

“Him? Of all the people you could marry,him?”

“Mom.” I sound as tired as I feel. I start to climb up, planning to walk by her, but her body blocks me easily. I get my powerful build from her.

Earlier, in the crowd, she looked frail. Now she's flush with the fury of a mother who doesn't understand her own child and hates it. “You need to tell me what's going on right now, Lori.”

Hanging my head, I whisper, “I can't.”

“Why? Why can't you tell me?”

“Because I don't want to lie to you. Don't make me do that.”

She balks. “I'd never ask you to lie to anyone.”

I give her a flat stare—she winces, turns away, creating space for me to go around her. She's acting like I slapped her and that pulls me up short. “Mom, I didn't mean …”

“You're right. I've always asked too much from you. Come on, it's windy out there.” Her smile is broken. She opens the backdoor, entering quickly. I hate myself for making her look so fucking sad.

It's warm in the house. I close the door gently, then I catch a whiff of garlic. “Are you cooking something?” I ask.