Page 15 of Touch the Sky

“Um, excuse me, I am in abra.” I use my free hand to snap one of the straps against my shoulder for emphasis. “In myhouse. I’m not walking around naked, and even if I was, I think I’m allowed to have my own tits flopping around in my own?—”

“Ça suffit!” She holds a hand up to silence me and then jerks her chin towards the hallway. “Go get dressed. We have a guest.”

“I see that. That would have been nice to know before I?—”

She cuts me off with one of her rareMamanIs Getting Serious glares. I grind my jaw as I swallow down the rest of my sentence. Even I know not to push her once she gets The Glare out.

“Please excuse me,” I say in English, peering over my mom’s shoulder at where Tess is still pretending to be fascinated by our ceiling. “I’ll be right back.”

I wait until I’ve turned the corner back to the bathroom before I hike my jeans up. Tess doesn’t need to see me trying to squeeze my hips into the stiff denim like I’m stuffing a couch cushion.

That’s the thing about being five foot two when you’re not also the width of a forest elf; pants are either way too long or way too tight. These ones are definitely in the way too tight category.

After I’ve zipped myself up, I fish my t-shirt off the bathroom floor and pull it over my head. I stare myself down in the bathroom mirror before wetting my hands and attacking the rooster hair I didn’t bother dealing with this morning.

The horses don’t care if I look like I’ve been electrocuted, but if Tess is out here looking like she just stepped out of a Levi’s ad, I guess I better step up my game.

I only caught a few quick glimpses of her by the door, but she seems as ridiculously put together for a farrier as she did the other day: tight tank top clinging to her stomach under an open plaid button-down with the sleeves neatly rolled up to show off her bulging forearm veins.

I mean, not that I could see them from across the room, but I’m sure they must be bulging. Everything about her is bulging with that cool, calm, and collected swagger that probably has girls flocking to her like magnets any time she sets foot in a bar.

I doubt she’d ever be caught with her tighty whities out. I doubt she even owns tighty whities.

I’m still busy trying to guess what underwear shedoeswear when I wander into the kitchen and find my mother serving Tess orange juice at the table. Only they’re not alone. For the second time today, I find myself face to face with a completely unexpected visitor.

This one is a very tiny visitor.

“Uh, hi,” I say to the kid perched on one of our wooden chairs.

She’s staring at me from behind a curtain of shaggy brown hair dyed pink at the ends. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and she’s got her arms wrapped around them, her feet tapping against the edge of the chair’s seat in a chaotic rhythm, like the last thing she wants to be doing is sitting still.

“This is my daughter, Shel,” Tess says. “Shel, this is Jacinthe, Gabrielle’s daughter. She lives here.”

I feel like someone just yanked the floor tiles out from under my feet. I grip the edge of the counter beside me, my gaze ping-ponging back and forth between Tess and the kid.

“You…” My voice sounds squeaky. I clear my throat. “You have a kid?”

Tess tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Oh.”

My head is spinning, and I have no idea why. Lots of people have kids. There’s no reason Tess wouldn’t.

Maybe it’s just that I never would have guessed she’s a mom. There’s a lot I’ve been guessing about her, and the mere sight of this child in my kitchen proves a lot of it has been wrong.

“Right,” I say. I clear my throat again and lift my hand in a wave. “Hi, Shel. I am Jacinthe. You can call me Jass if it’s easier. Some of my friends call me that.”

She bobs her head in a shy nod, her feet still tip-tapping against the wooden seat. Her attention darts over to the window every few seconds. She hasn’t touched her glass of orange juice.

Mamanstarts pouring a glass of juice for me as well. As I walk over to grab it, I hear Shel murmuring to her mother.

“Mom, please?”

“You can go back out in a few minutes,” Tess replies in a hushed tone. “Just sit tight and I promise the cat will still be there.”

Shel huffs. “Yeah, right. Please can I go play with him now?”

I carry my juice over to the table, and Shel clamps her jaw shut like I’ve caught her doing something rude.