Page 136 of Scars Like Wings

“I love it, too! You have no idea how much I missed you. I love that we are girlfriends now. It’s all just perfect!” I reached down and gave Quinn another kiss.

“Wow, my besties are so down bad it’s like I’m living in a Taylor Swift album.” I could practically hear Maisie’s head shake on the other side of the car.

“Aw, don’t feel left out, babycakes. I missed you, too,” Cody said from presumably close by.

“Bite me.”

“Oh, I plan to later, hot stuff.”

“A-a-and, mood ruined,” I heard Cole say. “Let’s get you three inside with your bags. We were just finishing up with stuff before we left. Maisie, can you teleport us from in the house?”

“Is Cody an asshole? Of course, I can,” She replied, making us laugh.

With one last kiss, I untangled myself from Quinn and placed two feet on the ground again. We rounded my SUV to meet the others. Quinn and the boys retrieved the luggage there, and we made our way inside. The cousins joked about how Simone, Maisie, and I didn’t know how tonotoverpack with our three bags each. I was about to respond when Quinn opened the door, and I was hit with the smells of peppered bacon, something salty baking in the oven, and freshly brewed coffee. Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody” was playing, and I could hear a woman’s voice singing along. The mansion felt warmer, more lived in than it did the night and morning after the party. It reminded me of...

I swallowed around the sudden ball in my throat.

The six of us rounded the corner, the cousins and the girls happily chattering, but I was mentally elsewhere. No, I wasn’t a freshly twenty-eight-year-old about to go on vacation with her friends and girlfriend. Now, I was maybe seven or eight. Mom was ironing clothes, the house filled with the smell of laundry and starch. I sat next to her, doing my homework while some sitcom or reality show played softly in the background. Auntie Max was there, having just broken up with someone and needing to not be alone. Pops had just gotten off from a late shift, and he came bursting through the house full of energy. He immediately turned on the radio, having caught the beginning of one of his favorite songs. Whether it was Luther Vandross or Anita Baker or Frankie Beverly or someone else, I don’t remember now, but I do remember how he took Mom’s hand and started to dance with her. I got up and pulled Auntie Max from the couch to join. We danced through that song and the next and the one after, switching partners until we just descended into a dance party when a Prince song came on. We went along with it, and nothing had felt more right. By the end, we were on the carpet together,breathless from dancing and from our giggles. Our laughter echoed off the walls, through the house, on for miles and years, across realities until it was reverberating in my ears and making my hands begin to shake. Something within me was itching for something, what exactly I wasn’t sure. But everything was too familiar, and it filled me with such longing my heart felt like it was being crushed and ready to flood the mansion with it.

Was this the sign? Was this what I asked for? What did it mean?

Quinn and the boys placed our bags next to the pile of various duffel bags, suitcases, and backpacks that must have been theirs. Quinn took my hand after, calming some of my nerves as we made our way to the kitchen. There, the music was louder, but not too loud to where people had to yell over it. The smells were loud enough to make my mouth water, though, reminding me that we hadn’t even stopped for coffee before we drove down. Cooper sat at the bar on his phone, but I barely registered him. Instead, my eyes were on who was behind the massive countertop.

Dancing to Diana Ross was an older white woman. She had to be at least in her early forties, but definitely not a day over fifty. The woman was fucking gorgeous with long straight dark auburn-brown hair clipped away like a Pinterest inspo post with a few loose strands. Her face was made-up like a professional had done it. Her candy red nails waved her spatula around as she cooked and danced throughout the kitchen. Her pink ruffled apron partially covered the white button-down with embroidery on it that she wore with mom jeans and her bare feet. She was like a celebrity trying to dress casually for a house tour, but there was an air about her that I couldn’t explain. There was something so familiar about this woman that it pushed all my racing thoughts and anxieties away.Had we met before?

The woman plucked a bacon from her cooling baking sheet full of unseasoned ones alongside peppered and candied ones. She tore it into smaller pieces and bent down to give them to a waiting Clarkson I hadn’t noticed sitting like the best pup at the entrance to the kitchen. She chewed it happily and waited for the other pieces.

Quinn shook her head with a smile. “You spoil her, Mama.”

Mama.This woman was…? Now that it was mentioned, I couldn’t unsee the sharp arch of her dark brown eyebrows, the slight downturn in her eyes even as they smiled, the wide nose, the three moles on her face in the exact same spot, the deep loud laugh. This woman looked like an older Quinn but with straight hair and less tan. I felt my cheeks heat.

I was about to meet Quinn’s mother. Like, right now. What do I do? What do I say? What?—?

The woman, Mrs. Garcia, looked up and beamed. Her eyes… If Quinn hadn’t called it out already, I would have guessed immediately that this was her mom from the eyes. Not only was Quinn a clone of her mom but they shared the same blazing hazel brown eyes. She came around the counter and embraced her daughter. “What kind of grandmother would I be if I didn’t spoil my grandpuppy! Mamas have to spoil their babies. It’s in our nature.”

When they parted, she turned her eyes to me to take me in. I was wrong before. Her eyes were the samecoloras Quinn’s, but they lacked Quinn’s mischief, sharpness, and edge. Her eyes were softer, sweeter. Where Quinn’s eyes made me want to sit with hot chocolate around a fire with some hard cider, her mom’s eyes made me want to sit wrapped in a blanket to bingeGreat British Baking Show. Mrs. Garcia smiled at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners as it reached her eyes with sincerity. “Ah, you must be Byrd! I hope you are a hugger because I’m a smother.”

“Oh, I love—” She took me into a hug immediately. It was so warm and sweet I had to blink back tears. She smelled just like desserts and blankets fresh from a dryer. She was just as soft as a blanket, too, her skin smooth and moisturized where it touched my own through the gaps in my outfit. Mrs. Garcia held me so close and tight against her that it justfeltlike home. But not just any home. It was home with a mom, a family, and everything I hadn’t realized how desperately I missed. It was a home with a mom who loved unconditionally, who cooked with enough love for a thousandHallmarkmovies, who thrived on the success of her children, who loved being a mom in every way, who was built for it. Gods, this woman reminded me of my mom, of how much I missed her. It was hard to explain, but hugging her was enough to make me forget…

When she pulled away, I instantly missed it. I was addicted to it already. I barely knew this woman, but I loved her beyond words.

“I have heardsomuch about you, but my daughter failed to speak to howgorgeousyou are! You are so beautiful, my goodness!” She took a step back while holding onto my hands to admire my cropped short sleeve shirt and flared wide leg pants with a fun orange, blue, and white pattern. “And such a fashionista, too!”

I blushed. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Garcia!”

“Oh, none of that. I only have people on payroll or annoying folks at work call me that. With how keen my daughter is on you, you can call me Mama instead!”

“That’s a little insensitive, don’t you think, Mama?” Quinn raised an eyebrow at her mother.

“What is, dear?”

“Byrd and her mom? Remember what I told you?”

Mrs. Garcia’s eyebrows furrowed in thought for the briefest moment before realization dawned. She turned back to me, hermouth a perfect O-shape. “Oh, my goodness! I’m so, so sorry! There I go putting my foot in my mouth again! I didn’t mean to!”

“I don’t understand?” I shook my head, glancing between Quinn’s mouth set into a straight line at her mom and Mrs. Garcia with her hand covering hers.

“When I asked you to call me that, I didn’t mean it like I wanted to replace your mom with her being gone. I just wanted you to know that you can feel safe here. I know I could never replace your mom, sugar bell. I’m sorry if it came off like that. There’s no one who could ever replace her, and I would never try to. I just… I just want you to feel at home here always. So, please call me whatever you feel comfortable with.”

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