Page 24 of Always You

Our gazes stay locked while I tug my lip between my teeth, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she lets out a full belly burst of laughter, which is music to my ears.

“Well, she’s not wrong about the bimbo part.” I press my tongue into my cheek to hide the smile that wants to slip through at her accusation. “She is wrong aboutme, though.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I mutter.

She shakes her head, then leans back, staring at me with her clear lake-colored eyes.

I swear one day I’ll drown in them, and I doubt I’ll ever come back from that.

“What?” I won’t be able to think straight if she keeps looking at me like this. Like she actually sees more than just a rebellious teenager with a fucked-up life.

“You want me to go inside and introduce myself to your mom?”

Wait? What?

“You would do that?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “If it’s important to you. Of courseI will.”

She says it with an ease that would be logical if my mom was the mother she was before my dad died. But she’s not. She knows this. She’s listened to my dreadful stories almost every night now since the moment we met. But she still sits here with a relaxation I wouldn’t expect after knowing what she knows.

“Really?” I ask again, my heart pounding a little from anxiety. If my dad was still alive, I would’ve been jumping for joy, because Charlotte is the kind of girl you want to bring home.

She’s fun.

She’s sweet.

She’s gorgeous.

She’s the whole package, and I know it.

But to my mom, on the other hand?

“Why is that such a weird thing?” I just keep looking at her in awe. “She’s your mom. Of course I want to meet her.” She gets out, putting her words to action and rounding the car. Clearly being dead serious about this, and I bite my lip, not knowing what to fucking do. Part of me wants to introduce her to my mom, hoping that one day life is different and we can all share a meal together. But then the other part is not even considering it, feeling the primal and utter need to protect Charlotte.

“Charls, I don’t know.” I grab her wrist before she can make her way toward the front door, and a serene look peers up at me through her thick lashes.

“What do you mean?”

“My mom. She—” I pause, rubbing the back of my neck. “She’s not fun to be around right now. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t, silly. Iwantto.”

“She’s not nice,” I offer, hoping to change her mind.

She rolls her eyes, tugging her wrist out of my grip, and starts walking to the front door. She’s the sweetest thing I’ll ever meet, but she’s also a stubborn piece of work when she wants to be.I learned that in the first week when she stole my debit card so she could pay for the ice cream we were getting.

Throwing my hands up in defeat, I jog behind her, making sure I’m the one walking through the door first. Hesitant to open it, I give her a final warning.

“Babe, she’s probably drunk. It’s not a pretty sight.”

“Hunt.” Her palm connects with my wrist, her green eyes hitting mine with a level of affection that makes it impossible to say no to her. “I know this. But if introducing myself to her can make your life a bit easier, I will do it. “

She’s so fucking adorable.

I can’t argue with her, and even if I wanted to, her adamant stance isn’t something I can go against anyway.

With a sigh, I open the door, just in time to catch my mom saunter from the kitchen to the living room. A bottle of wine in one hand, a glass filled to the rim in the other, with a cigarette dangling between the tips of her fingers. My spine tenses, yet I hoist a smile on my features.

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