Page 32 of The Bronze Garza

She has an intense aversion to the words Mom, Mommy, and Mother, and has forbidden me from addressing her as such. Of course, that makes me do it all the more. I am my father’s daughter after all.

As I pick up the soup spoon, I fake a wince.

I’m ninety-five percent better than I was a month ago, and my ribs don’t hurt anymore, but I’ve been faking it with her. Anything to get more time with her.

As an artist and a curator who owns several small art galleries across the globe, Lysandra Callas is always on the move. Always traveling. More so because she has to than because she wants to.

A restless spirit lives inside her, and although I used to resent that spirit when I was a little girl who just really needed my mother and couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to be my mother, I no longer do. I’ve learned to love her in spite of it and appreciate the moments with her when I get them.

I know now that it was never because she didn’twantto be my mother, but because shecouldn’t. She’d tried for me before, after my fifteenth birthday party when I threw a tantrum that she didn’t love me. She cried and told me she would stay and try her best to be the mother I needed.

And it had made me, and Dad, happy. Until around three months in when she began scratching and clawing at her skin like bugs were crawling under it. By the fifth month, she’d broken out in hives. It was bad, and I’d felt so horrible that I begged her to leave.

She told me once that stability felt like being tied to a tree over an ants nest and under a beehive.

So yes, I’ve been faking for a while, hobbling and wincing to get her to dote on me more. Stay a little bit longer. The last time she stuck around with me this long was after I came back. She was so overcome with joy and relief that I’d gotten an entire five weeks out of her, and it was glorious.

“So what was your handsome father ‘tripping’ about this time?” she asks, stealing a piece of my muffin.

Turns out Mom has some serious skills in alternative vegan recipes and has been making me a lot of tasty stuff using only the foods I can eat. Like spinach-banana muffins. I couldn’t appreciate her more.

“He wants me to stay with Torin Garza while he’s away,” I tell her.

She frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Basically, he went to Red Cage to get a bodyguard for me, but they’re all unavailable, so he strong-armed Torin into covering me. Except that he’s on freakingvacation, which means the only way he’ll do it is if I’m at his house.”

Mom’s brows shoot up. “And Mitch agreed to this?”

“Yup.”

She chews slowly as she contemplates this. “What do you think about this man?”

“Rude,” I reply without a moment’s thought. “Very rude.”

For whatever reason, that makes her smile, and she steals another piece of muffin. “The first time I saw him, I have to admit that I stared longer than I should have.”

“Gross, Mom,” I mumble. “Also, looks is nothing if your attitude stinks.”

“Well, if he makes you uncomfortable then you—”

“He doesn’t.”The complete opposite. He makes me feel safe, warm.“He’s just...”

Not what I’d expected.

Had I thought about the man since I got off that jet? Not really. I’d chalked up my stupid attraction to him as judgment impairment brought on by trauma. Because none of it was sane. And as the months went by, the more he’d faded from my mind.

Now it all comes rushing back as if it hadn’t really left but had just been waiting around the corner.

“The whole arrangement is just weird, is all,” I finish. “The man’s practically a stranger.”

With her pointer finger, she traces the peace symbol pattern on her dress. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions, of course. But after all that’s happened, the truth is, we’re terrified, Lyra. I feel so helpless it physically hurts. And your father...God.” Her eyes flutters closed and she exhales slowly before reopening them. “Just know that whatever he does, it’s because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. I trust his judgment utterly, so if he’s comfortable leaving you under this man’s protection then so am I.”

Of courseshe’s siding with him. She always does. She loves him as much as he loves her. She just can’t be the woman he needs. “You always side with your baby daddy over me. Tell me, is it his smile-dimples that has you so under his spell? Or is it his dad-muscles?”

With an exaggerated eye-roll, she straightens and start out of the room. “Just drink your soup and shut up, you little twerp.”

“All roads lead to you,Mom,” I lilt.