Page 26 of Relinquish

After ringing the doorbell, I shuffle my feet, waiting on Stella’s front porch for her to open the door. While she’d never formally adopted me, she’s as close to a mom as anyone, but my mother could have been. I’d tried for years to keep her at a distance, but she had none of it. She’s like a Bulldog with a bone–persistent and determined to break down my walls. No matter how many I put up.

I don’t know what I did to deserve people like her, Tyrone, and Daniel. Hell, my sperm donor didn’t even bother showing up at the court hearings after my mom passed. In the end, his parental rights were terminated. But at this point, there’s no way I can get rid of my cheering squad. They wouldn’t let me anyway.

The door swings open, and Stella beams from ear to ear. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Her hair is no longer the dark brown I remember from our first meeting, and the smooth curve of her face has been replaced by pronounced crow’s feet and laugh lines. Still, she’ll always be the guardian angel that saved me from living on the streets. “Son, come here and give me a hug.”

I wrap my arms around her slender frame and inhale the scent of baked goods, making my stomach growl. How does the woman always smell like cupcakes? Is there a perfume for that? “How is everything going?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you.”

I pat her back and follow her inside. She lives in a small suburban townhome. One of the first things I did after joining the military was save money to get her out of our old neighborhood. It was no easy feat getting her to agree to move. She’s as stubborn as an ox, kind of like Lola in that respect. An eternal optimist. Another similarity to Lola. Don’t think about her.

It wasn’t until someone broke into Stella’s home and stole her Christmas decorations that she agreed to move. I can still hear her now. ‘If people are willing to steal ornaments that celebrate Jesus’s birth, then this isn’t the place for me.’

“Come on in and have a seat.” She motions me to the sofa. Her furnishings aren’t fancy, but the place is clean and in good repair. Against the wall, the television blares an evening game show. “Let me get you some tea.”

As I walk toward the kitchen, she spins on her heel and pins me in place with a stern glare. “Have a seat. I may be getting old, but I can still walk into the kitchen and pour you a drink. And if necessary, I can put you over my knee.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I chuckle and settle into the cushions.

The walls are filled with photos of Stella and her boys. Several of them are of the three of us, but there are countless other photos of other children who’ve graced her home. Many of the portraits are of grown men with their families. She takes immense pride in their success stories as they’ve survived some of the worst beginnings to lead a good life. And the few who have not been so lucky? She’ll never give up on them, either.

When she returns, I take the drink from her. As I place it onto the coaster atop the coffee table, the ice cubes clink against the glass. She settles into the recliner, presses the remote, and the room fills with silence. “You could have left it on.”

She waves her hand as if to dismiss me. “It was a repeat.”

“What’s new in the neighborhood?” I pick up the glass and take a sip of the liquid. Sweet tea. As sugary as it is, you’d think Stella was a product of the South, but she’s a Midwest woman through and through.

Even though she’d made a big deal about moving, in no time, she’d been immersed in the fabric of her new community. “Well, Mr. Long on the corner, the one that lives in the brick house with the two-car garage. You know which one I’m talking about, right?” She pauses to wait for me to acknowledge her.

“The elderly gentleman with the white hair and the Pomeranian?”

“Yes. That’s him. Well, his granddaughter is getting married next summer. He just found that out this week. She’s a lawyer and spent years in school.” She waves her hand as if that fact is irrelevant to the story. “Anyway, she’s marrying an accountant.” Her eyes drift to the ceiling, and she purses her lips together. “At least I think he’s an accountant. Maybe he’s a restaurant owner. I can’t remember which one.”

Lord, this could go on for hours. “Tell him, ‘Congratulations.’”

“Thank you,” she says as if she’s already passed on the sentiment and knows he’ll be appreciative of it. “Then there’s Ms. Barrett next door. She just got hired for a new job at an accounting office.” She smiles as if she’s had an ah-ha moment and nods. “That’s it. That means Mr. Long’s future grandson is the restaurant owner.” I sink into the sofa and listen as she describes everything that’s going on in the neighborhood.

Without breaking for a breath, she asks, “So, tell me about this girl you took to see Sarah.”

My skin tightens, and my breath catches in my lungs. Damn it. Either Sarah or Tyrone has spilled their guts with a heavy dose of wishful thinking included. Perfect.

It’s only been a few hours since I left Lola’s house, but she’s probably already packed and on the road back to New York. “There’s nothing to tell. She’s a co-worker. She found a stray dog, and I knew where she could get it checked out. That’s the sum of the story.”

“Sarah seemed to think you might be interested in this girl, ‘Lola.’” Stella raises her eyebrows. “Lola’s a pretty name, isn’t it?” She stares expectantly until I nod. It’s easier to go along with her than to fight it. “She said when she first saw her dressed in all those designer clothes, she was concerned she might be a bit too high maintenance for you, but she liked her. She said there’s an electric current between the two of you. And that she might be ‘The One.’” The way she’s staring, you’d think she’d been trained by the top military brass on detecting lies.

Unfortunately, she can. I’ve never been able to lie to her without her figuring it out, so there’s no point in trying. “Sarah was right. I’m attracted to her, but there’s no future between us. She’s likely packing right now to return home to New York.”

She frowns and leans forward like she’s about to snatch the shoe off her foot and smack me upside the head with it. “Why would she leave? Did you do something to make her want to leave?”

“No. She had an argument with her father before she moved here, and her brother showed up in town a couple of hours ago.” I shrug. “I can only assume he’s here to smooth things over and convince her to go back. Besides, it’s not like she’d be interested in someone like me for the long term. Her family would permanently disown her.”

She shoves out of the recliner, slaps one hand on her hip, and the other is pointed at my face. The spark in her eyes reminds me of all the times she’d lectured me in high school.

For a diminutive woman dressed in a modest pantsuit, she still manages to scare the hell out of me. “Cade Thomas Hughes, you need to stop selling yourself short. It’s not your fault your father left before you were born or that your momma became so sick she couldn’t take care of the two of you. You did what you had to do to survive. It’s not like you were stealing from stores or breaking into people’s houses.”

“No, you caught me dumpster diving.” I frown. “That’s so much more glamorous.”

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