Page 108 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“Mom, this is Tyler. Ty, my mom, Inez.”

He offers her his hand, brackets of strain around the corners of his mouth. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dean.”

Mom puts her hands on her curvaceous hips and studies him for a long moment. He squirms beside me. Finally, she smiles and—ignoring his hand—wraps her arms around him. My eyes fly to Tyler’s. The hug has clearly caught him off guard, but he doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, he might even enjoy her display of maternal affection.

“Please, call me Inez,” Mom says as she pulls away. “Congratulations on winning the championship.”

“Thank you.” He blushes. “We worked hard for it, and I’m glad we got there, but honestly, I’ve been more worried about today.”

Mom tilts her head, understanding in her eyes. “Come inside. I made cookies. We can eat them while we get to know each other better. Leave your bags for now. We can get them later.”

“Okay.” He seems relieved she’s willing to let him inside the house. He takes my hand as we approach the porch, and Mom presses herself against my side. We’ve always been affectionate, but we became more so in the aftermath of The Incident.

At the door, Tyler lets me go and bends to remove his shoes.

“Don’t worry about it unless they’re filthy,” Mom says.

He checks the soles of his shoes, then shows them to me, concern creasing his forehead. “What do you think? I should probably take them off, just to be safe.”

My heart aches at his uncertainty, which reminds me that not all parents are as accepting as my mom. He’s already told me how his dad used to make a fuss if his mom missed so much as a speck of dust.

“They’re fine,” I assure him.

He takes them off anyway.

The mouthwatering aroma of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven permeates the house. Mom leads us down the hall to the living room, where a plate of cookies sits in the center of the coffee table. A mug sits next to it, and I can smell coffee brewing. Mom doesn’t have a fancy machine, but she splurges on good filter coffee.

“Do you like cream with your coffee?” she asks Tyler.

He hesitates. “Do you have half and half?”

“Absolutely.”

He relaxes. “I’ll have that please. Plenty of it.”

She laughs. “A man after my own heart.”

She heads into the attached kitchen—which is more of a kitchenette, really—and prepares two mugs of coffee. I have no doubt there’s already a scoop of hot cocoa and a splash of caramel sauce in mine. Tyler and I sit on the sofa, leaving the armchair behind the coffee mug free. When she brings the drinks over, Tyler thanks her.

We sit, and Mom takes a cookie. I grab one too, hoping that Tyler will calm down a bit if we keep up a non-threatening stream of actions.

He tastes the coffee. “This is really good, Mrs.—uh, Inez. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Tyler.”

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. A bead of sweat has formed at his hairline and is trickling down the side of his face.

“I appreciate you being willing to have me here.” He wipes his palms on his jeans. “First off, I just want to apologize for how I hurt Echo in the past. I know I did wrong by her, and I can hardly believe she’s forgiven me. I know what I did wasn’t okay, and I don’t take her for granted. I’m grateful every day she’s with me.”

The groove between Mom’s eyebrows fades. “Thank you for saying that, but Echo is the only one you owe an apology to, and since she’s forgiven you, it would be ridiculous of me not to. Just don’t hurt her again, or I’ll hunt you down.”

No one laughs.

Maybe she meant it to come across as a joke, but we all know it isn’t one. Mom would have torn Eric Weston apart if she’d had the chance, and I have no doubt she’ll fight for me in the future if it comes to that.

But I don’t think it will.

“I won’t ever hurt her like that again,” he promises. “And if I do, I’ll be first in line to kick my own ass. Uh, sorry for cursing.”

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