Page 18 of Loathe at First Sight

With a mouthful of coffee, he shakes his head back and forth. “No, it wasn’t like that. She just more so wanted to give the family a heads up on why you would be moving back.”

Part of me knows that Dylan is just trying to keep the peace. Having four sisters to deal with, he always played the peacekeeper role well. He had to just to avoid getting stuck in the middle of some heated arguments.

So, I don’t know how much of what he tells me about Mom is actually true, or is it him just trying to diffuse an already-tense situation?

Plus, I feel like Dylan has always had a bit of a different relationship with Mom than the girls had. She had a soft spot for him that wasn’t there for us. We couldn’t get away with shit—she’d tell us that she knew all of our tricks and that she’d never fall for any of them. Yet Dylan could just smile with those annoying dimples of his and get whatever he wanted. She’d believe anything he’d tell her. Hook, line, and sinker.

Dylan interrupts my thoughts. “You didn’t answer me. How are you doing?”

“Honestly, I’m not exactly sure. Right now, I think I’m just numb. I’ve cried so much that I’m not sure I’m even capable anymore. But just to ensure that stays true, let’s change the subject,” I say with a small smile.

“Okay, fair enough. But you know I’m here if you want to talk.” He adds, “And I promise I won’t tell anyone else whatever you tell me.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” Switching topics, I say, “So, I tried calling you last night. Where the hell were you?”

I’m not mad, but it’s way too much fun to give him some shit.

His face scrunches up in embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was on a date.”

“A date, huh? With whom?”

“Her name was Wendy.”

“Was? Are you not going to see her again?” I ask.

I swear I see a bit of a blush on his cheeks. “Me using the word date may have been a bit strong. We matched on one of those dating apps—the ones where most people hook up rather than try to make meaningful connections.”

“Ohhhh,” I say, nodding my head. “So, you just jumped straight to the good stuff.”

He laughs. “Something like that.”

We talk a bit more, but just when we are starting to settle in, his phone starts to vibrate.

“It’s a text from Mom,” he says. “She’s wondering if you are still in bed, wasting your day away.”

“Tell her yes. Better yet, tell her that I died. Maybe then, she’ll get off my back.”

“Doubt it. That woman would revive you just to kick your ass again.”

He’s got a point.

“I guess we better get going,” he says.

“Do we have to?”

“May as well go ahead and get it over with.”

Dylan gives me a ride to the bar and heads inside with me. Thankfully, he doesn’t leave me to enter the den of wolves alone. Well, really, it’s just one wolf. Dad is more like a puppy.

I spot Mom who is wiping down the bar and stocking freshly washed glasses.

With all the nerve I can muster, I walk up to her with Dylan not far behind. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, Eliza,” she says without looking at me.

“You wanted to see me?”

She pulls out her keys from her apron that’s tied around her waist. “Here. Figured you’d want to go get your stuff out of your car.”

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