Page 24

Her hands shake as she fiddles with something near the car’s wheel, and a soft snap echoes in the stillness. She glances around, meeting my gaze.
I stumble back, bumping into the hallway table, the vase teetering dangerously.
Mom whirls around, pressing the phone to her chest, the fear evaporated and replaced by that flawless mask she wears so well. “Naomi, darling. Everything alright?”
I don’t answer, steadying the vase.
“I’ll call you back.” She ends the call, placing the phone onto the counter. “Sweetheart, you startled me.”
“Sorry, I was just?—”
“Were you looking for me?” She glides closer, her cool fingers adjusting my collar as if I’m some delicate piece of porcelain. “You seem flushed.”
My stomach rolls. “Dad wanted the Miller projections.”
“Ah.” Her thumb traces my jawline, lingering too long for comfort. “And did you give them to him?”
“Yeah.” I step back, breaking the connection.
She tilts her head, studying me like one of her flower arrangements. “How long were you standing there?”
My throat tightens, constricting around the words stuck inside. “Just got here.”
“Mmm. You’ve been so distant lately. We should have lunch tomorrow. Just us girls.”
The snap of metal. The terror in her eyes. The accident.“Can’t. Work.”
“You work too hard.” Her fingers find their way to her necklace. “I worry about you, always alone in that office.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Her eyes narrow. “You look… tired.”
Bile rises. “I should go.” I pivot, but her hand clasps my wrist, holding me back.
“Naomi.” Her voice lowers, a sharp edge creeping in. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, Mom. Always.”
Her perfect smile returns. “That’s my girl.”
“I need to go.” I bolt.
She doesn’t follow, but her voice carries down the hall. “Don’t forget dinner this week, darling.”
The cold evening air hits my face, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
My hands shake as I fumble with the car keys. Drop them. Pick them up. Try again.
Inhale. Exhale. Don’t throw up. Don’t?—
I barely make it to the rose bushes before my stomach heaves. The acid burns my throat as I retch, and the scent of flowers and vomit mixes, making my head spin.
I wipe my mouth, straightening up. I should have gone to the bathroom, but then she would have waited for me. Ugh. I hate this.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out, squinting at the screen.
Brandon.