Page 145 of Best Served Cold

“What did you go do? River said you went to talk to Chanel. And then you showed up with her…”

“I went to make sure she was okay. I found some stuff out about what those assholes did to her and…” He hung his head. “It’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have walked away from you like that.”

I shrugged. “Honestly, that wasn’t a big deal. It kinda hurt, but I get it.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it.”

Taking pity on him, I leaned back against the couch and looked him square in the face. Time to lay down the truth.

All of it.

“My mom called me after that night at Crimson.”

“I thought you were no-contact with her?”

“I am. Or I was. She called from a different number so I didn’t know it was her.”

“What’d she say?”

“That it was time for me to come home and stop screwing up the plan.”

“‘The plan’?”

“My parents own a bookstore. The plan has always been for me to take over when Dad retires and carry on the family legacy of selling bibles and popping out Christian babies.”

Zane made a face. “I can’t picture you running a store.”

“Neither can I. And I never wanted that. Still don’t.”

“Wait. You said the last time you talked to your mom she was trying to set you up with that girl.”

“That was the same night.”

“Shit. And I’m guessing she didn’t ask nicely?”

“Fuck no. She demanded, guilted, threatened, and gaslit.” I raked my hand through my hair. “Her usual brand of motherly love.”

“Are you sure us getting together didn’t trigger this?” He pushed his knee against mine. The contact was nice and helped ground me. “Did I do something to make it worse?”

“No. You didn’t do this.” I paused. Might as well tell him everything. “Did I ever tell you I applied to art school?”

He shook his head.

“My parents wanted me to go to college for business, but I didn’t even apply to anywhere other than that one art program my teacher suggested. I never heard back from them, so I assumed I didn’t get in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I found out I did get in, and my mom had her best friend, who works at the post office, send the letter back.”

He gaped at me. “That’s a felony.”

“Like she cares about that. Parents’ rights above all else.”

“Is this the same best friend who’s willing to pimp out her teenage daughter to you?”

“Yup. She got her other girls married off before eighteen, might as well keep with the trend.”

“Jesus.”

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