Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

“What are you doing here?” I blurt the words before I can stop myself. Zayne frowns at me before realization makes him turn around and face Carlton.

“This is a public place.” Carlton’s tone is clipped, his expression cold and stony. “I can be here if I want to.”

“You’re just…playing games alone at Nickel City? ” There’s a barely contained laugh in Zayne’s voice, like he finds the situation hilarious. I squeeze his hand in warning.

“Who says I’m alone?” Carlton arches a brow and nods his head toward the prize counter, where Meredith and Mabel are turning in tickets.

“Oh,” Zayne says like it makes perfect sense. “Got it. The thought of being alone with you was so repulsive, your girlfriend had to bring her sister along.”

Carlton balls his hand into a fist. “Watch it, Silverman.”

I tug on Zayne’s hand. “Come on. Let’s just go.” Carlton’s eyes travel from my face to my hand connected to Zayne’s, and I swear, I detect a trace of pain in his eyes.

“Fine,” Zayne mutters. “Let’s go.”

“I was hoping I could have a word with you, Dot.” Carlton sounds annoyed, like he would rather be doing anything else in the world than asking me to talk to him. But he also sounds kind of desperate.

I can’t help the curiosity that takes residence in me. I look at Zayne, trying to gauge what he thinks, and he gives me a look. One that says, it’s up to you, not me.

I sigh. “Fine.”

Zayne lets go of my hand, and I follow Carlton to an empty table. I lower myself into the orange faux leather seat, and Carlton does the same. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“How did you know I was here?”

He purses his lips and takes out his phone, showing me a map on his screen. His contact photo for me hovers over our current location on the map. “You shared your location with me, remember?”

My memory flashes to a moment we shared in my room after he kissed me for the first time. Us exchanging contact info and locations. “Wow,” I say. “Thanks for reminding me to fix that.” My back is facing Zayne, so I glance over my shoulder to see him leaning against a pillar next to the air hockey game, his arms crossed as he waits for me and Carlton to finish talking.

“I hate him,” Carlton says, startling me, and my gaze darts to his face.

“I know. You’ve told me. What do you want to talk about?”

I can tell by his scowl that he doesn’t like that I’m rushing him, that I’m not questioning why he hates Zayne or trying to defend the reasons why I don’t to him.

But I don’t care. My days of adjusting my personality to cater to him are over.

Carlton releases a harsh exhale of breath. “My parents are splitting up.”

I stare at him in shocked silence. Some of the tightness in my chest evaporates. “I’m sorry.” I may be angry at him, at the way he’s treated me, but I’m not going to pretend I don’t care about him at all. About his life, or what happens to him. After all, he was there for me during an extremely difficult time of my life.

I wonder if that’s why he’s telling me this—because he was there for me, and now he expects me to be there for him.

As if he can read my mind, he says, “I’m telling you because I need your advice.”

“ My advice?” I furrow my brow. “For what?”

“I don’t know anyone else with a split household that I feel comfortable talking to. I know your parents aren’t divorced, but your mom isn’t home with you.”

Irritation seeps into my bones at the reminder. “Yeah. So what?”

He blinks a long, heavy blink. “I need advice,” he repeats, “on how you do it. How you cope without your mom. Because mine is about to move out for good.”

“Oh.” I lean back in my seat. Turn his words over in my mind. And then smile sadly at him. “The truth is that I don’t cope, Carlton. I don’t cope at all. I miss my mom more than I can express.” I reach over and hesitate before patting his hand. He stares at it like it holds the answers to the world. “But having friends to spend my time with helps.”

He meets my gaze, apology and regret written in every line of his face. “Dot…”

“I know.” I don’t need him to apologize. “It’s alright.” I stand up and start walking away from the table, but then remember something and turn back. “You know where to find me.” I offer the word to him like a white flag. “If you need to talk again. But you better not press charges against Zayne.”

His stoic face remains so for a long moment, before cracking into something resembling a smile. “Fine. And thanks.”

I nod at him. When I turn around, Mabel and Meredith are standing in front of me. Meredith’s face is unreadable, but Mabel beams at me, practically bursting at the seams. “Hi,” she mouths, bringing her hand up into a wave.

“Hey.” I can’t help but smile back.

“See you at school?” she asks. In her voice, I can hear what she’s not saying. Meredith isn’t mad at you anymore. We can hang out again.

“Yeah.” I can’t hide the hope in my voice. “Sounds good.”

She grins, linking her arm through Meredith’s, and they pass me to go sit with Carlton.

I walk back over to Zayne, who cocks his head in the direction I came. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I say, and I mean it. I lace my fingers through his, swinging our hands as we walk. “Everything is great.”

Zayne and I spend all our nickels over the course of two hours. We play all the games in the arcade, and I lose every time. Still, there’s a giant grin plastered on my face as I get in the car.

That is, until Beau starts calling. He knows I’m out with Zayne so I can’t imagine what would be important enough to justify him calling, but I answer the phone. “What’s up, Beau?”

“You need to come home.”

His words send my mind into a stir. “Why? We’re about to go eat.”

When he answers, his voice drops, like he’s trying to keep our conversation hidden from someone. “Mom is here.”

My stomach does a flip. “What?” I must have misheard him. He couldn’t have possibly just said what I think he did.

“Mom came home a day early.” He annunciates each syllable with emphasis. “She says she wanted it to be a surprise.”

I hang up the phone in a complete daze. I stare out the windshield at the fresh dusk, my eyes wide. When I turn to Zayne, my voice sounds like a whisper. “My mom is home.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. “Seriously?” His curious expression transforms into a huge grin. “Dot, that’s awesome!”

“I know, but we were supposed to go eat?—”

“Are you kidding?” He shakes his head at me. “It’s your mom , Dot. This is huge. Hasn’t it been like, months since you’ve seen her?”

“Almost six months,” I say, my voice drifting off into a whisper.

“Exactly.”

I reach over and grab his hand. “You’re the best.”

He lifts our joined hands to kiss my fingers.

Time flies by as we drive. My thoughts whirl in my head as Zayne turns onto my street, and when he parks in front of my house, I take a deep breath. He takes my face in his hands, rubbing my cheek with his thumb. His warm eyes stare into mine, filling me with steadiness and determination. “She’s going to be so happy to see you,” he murmurs.

“I know. Sorry about our date.”

“Don’t be. We can eat together anytime.” He brings my face to his and kisses me. My heart flutters, sending adrenaline surging through my body. I glide my hands along his neck and deepen the kiss until the only audible sound in the car is my pulse hammering in my ears.

We break away at the same time, but our faces are still close, our eyes still partly shut. “You should go,” Zayne whispers. I nod but make no move to do so. He laughs softly and lets go of me, grinning and shooing me away with his hand. “Go, Dot.”

I open the door and step out. “I’ll text you.”

And then I run to the front door, my heart leaping with every step that brings me closer to it.

When my hand is hovering over the knob, I wait a few moments, standing there and catching my breath. I’m winded from kissing Zayne and from the anticipation coursing through my veins, wondering if what Beau said could possibly be true.

“You got this,” I whisper to myself. “You got?—”

The front door swings open and standing on the other side, she’s right there—tall and strong, with a bright smile just for me.

“Mom!” I leap over the threshold and wrap my arms around her waist. To my surprise, she feels skinnier. I lean back to get another look at her. She looks the same as she always does, but there’s a bead of sweat pooling on her upper brow despite the winter chill.

“Bardot!” She squeezes me back and runs her elegant, calloused fingers along my braids, lifting them and letting them fall against my back. “My baby girl. I missed you so much.” She presses her face into my forehead, staying there.

“I missed you, too.” I don’t even realize I’m crying until the wind hits the moisture on my face. Embarrassed, I wipe it with my sleeve. “I didn’t know you were coming home early.”

She beams. “Surprise.”

Beau catches my eye over her shoulder. His lips are pursed, his expression wary, bordering on a scowl. What is his problem?

“Come inside, sweetie.” Mom keeps her arm around me, and we walk into the house together. “Let me make you something to eat. You hungry?”

“Yes,” I admit. “I skipped eating out with Zayne so I could get here.”

She starts up the stove. I can’t stop staring at her. It’s bizarre to see her in this house, tangible and vibrant, standing right in front of me. She barely spent more than two weeks here before she left for rehabilitation, so this house probably still feels completely new to her. I’m almost scared to blink, lest this turns out to be a hallucination instead of reality. “Zayne,” she repeats. “He the boy you’re in the play with?”

“Yeah.” My face gets warm. I haven’t yet filled her in on how much things have changed between me and Carlton. And Zayne.

“He’s also her boyfriend now,” Beau mutters from the corner of the kitchen. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Mom raises her brows at me as she stirs something in a pot. “Is that right? I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Does Aunt Lucille know you’re here?” Beau blurts the question like it’s been boiling inside him. Part of me wants to strangle him for being so agitated right now. It’s spoiling the moment.

“Beau, come taste this,” she says, blowing on the spoon and holding it out to him. It’s as if she didn’t hear his question. “Tell me if it needs more seasoning.”

Beau sighs in frustration before rolling off the wall and reaching for the spoon. He samples the food and with a shrug mumbles, “It tastes great, Mom.”

She smiles and opens the fridge, pulling vegetables out. “That’s going to be the perfect base for the soup I’m making.”

I brighten. “Soup sounds great.” I scoot a chair out from the table and sit. “So, how’s it been at Aunt Lucille’s? Tell me about what you’ve been up to the past couple months.”

She pushes her short curls away from her face with the back of her hand. “Oh, you know. Just been doing my best. But it’s hard out there in the middle of nowhere. It kinda feels like I’m losing touch with reality sometimes.” She smiles at me again, but it’s a sad smile this time. My stomach feels like it’s been wrung out by a pair of hands. “Being here makes me feel human again. I haven’t seen anyone but my sister in much too long.”

I swallow back the knot in my throat. “I’m happy you’re back,” I say.

Beau clears his throat. “That’s great, Mom. But you still haven’t answered my question as to whether she even knows you’re here. As to whether you’re okay being here, yet.”

I glare at him. “Beau, stop. Of course she’s okay to be here. She wouldn’t have come otherwise. Right, Mom?”

But before she can answer, the front door unlocks and opens, producing Dad. The kitchen goes silent as he walks in, taking in Mom standing at the stove, wooden spoon in hand. I have no idea what thoughts are running through his head as he stares at her, but in one swift movement, he lifts her off the ground without a word, hugging her as they spin in a circle.

It’s such a beautiful sight.

And I’m crying again. I elbow Beau, who is also watching them with a softer expression than I’ve seen on his face since I came home. “Come on. Let’s let them catch up.”

“Yeah.” He blinks, lost in the moment we’re witnessing, and then nods. He follows me down the hall to my room. I plop down on my bed and Beau sits at the foot. He stares hard at the ground, his guarded and annoyed glare once again present.

I can’t take it anymore.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demand. “What’s with the attitude? The interrogations, when Mom just got here?”

He shakes his head at me. “I have a bad feeling about her being here. I don’t think she’s ready. If she were in a rehabilitation facility, she wouldn’t even be allowed to visit us yet.”

“But she’s not in a facility!” I throw my hands in the air. “That was the whole point of her staying with her sister. So she could call us when she wants to, and come home for important stuff, like the play.”

“I guess.” He shrugs. “But what if she…” He trails off, unable to complete the sentence. But I know what he’s going to say. Relapses. What if she relapses?

I don’t blame him for worrying, because the possibility is unthinkable, unfathomable after all this time we’ve spent apart. After all the effort toward progress she’s made thus far.

“She won’t.” I try to sound firm. Confident. “She’ll be fine, Beau. It’s a short visit. Everything will be perfect.”

“Then why,” he asks, his lips forming a pout, “won’t she answer any of my questions?”

“Just give her time.” I stand up, beckoning him to join me. “Besides, don’t you know what this means?”

“What?”

I grin. “No more of Dad’s cooking for a while.”