Page 211 of Collided

Mom gives me a warm smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a family meal together one evening.”

It takes every bit of my self-restraint tonotlet my true emotions show.

When my silence extends, she says, “I saw that guy who dropped you off. It’s the same guy. Does he do that a lot?” Her curious eyes set on me.

This time Heath parked the car two houses down, instead of ten. Big mistake.

“Sometimes,” I murmur.

Her gaze turns calculating. “How often?”

“A few times.”

“Does he live nearby?”

“No.”

Mom looks quite keen on knowing about him. “What’s his name? Where does he live?”

These are all the questions I want to avoid. I don’t want to tell her about Heath. There might be a chance she mentions him to Dad.

I look into her serious gray eyes. “He’s just a friend, Mom.”

Wrong move. I should’ve been careful with my words.

Mom sits upright. “He’s a boy. A young teenage boy. Theyalwayswant something, Hope.”

“He’s not like that.” I know it’s not true. Heath doesn’t want anything from me. I don’t have anything to offer to him, anyway. All I have, he’s got much more and better. For heaven’s sake, he lives in a mansion and is so rich.

Doubt seeps in. He has everything, so why does he want me?

I think about you all the damn time.

I wonder why he thinks about me at all. I’ve got nothing but complications and troubles in my life.

Mom smirks. “You really are stupid, honey.”

The insult claws my heart in the worst way possible. “I’m not. We’re just good friends.”

“Your father and I were good friends.”

I hold my mouth to not scowl or utter a snide remark.

“Now we’re here,” she says with a bright smile,

I take a bite to not say anything but Mom’s adamant to talk about Heath. “That boy is like every other hormonal guy who is looking for girls like you to prey on.”

Anger laces my words as I glare at her. “I told you, it’s not like that.”

Mom doesn’t take heed. “Be honest. Has he touched you?”

He has, but not the way she thinks.

He’s touched me to hold me. He’s touched me to wipe away my tears. He’s touched me to comfort me. He’s touched me to make me feel safe. He’s touched me to give me a perfect kiss that I’ve only read about in books.

“No,” I lie.

The way her lips quirk up in reply, tells me she doesn’t believe me one bit.

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