Page 120 of Roughing It

Kirk blanches when he sees me. “Are you okay? You look rough.”

“Gee, just what everyone wants to hear,” I snark. And even though I’ve gotten more comfortable with my natural face, I still run my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the snarls.

He has the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry. I mean, you don’t seem to be feeling well.”

“Eating poisonous berries will do that.”A poisonous mother will also take it out of you.

Kirk’s smooth forehead wrinkles and his eyes widen. “What?”

I wave my hand. “I ate a handful of raw elderberries. Pro-tip, they have to be cooked.”

“Are you okay? Do I need to get an ambulance out there?”

“I’m fine. Hudson took care of me.”

From behind me, Hudson snorts and grumbles. “Never should have happened.”

My eyes roll of their own accord. That man carries way too much guilt and responsibility for everyone else’s actions. I don’t blame him. At all.

“So besides your treatise on how stunning I look, why did you call?”

“Your mother posted again. I wasn’t sure if you blocked her or knew.”

In a blink, Hudson has my phone in his hand, a snarl on his lips. “Why would you tell her? Are you trying to upset her? Is this some sort of fucking game?”

The blood drains from Kirk’s face, and he stammers. “N-no. I’m ch-checking on her.”

Hudson huffs and I steal the phone before he says anything else. “Kirk, it’s okay. Hudson is… protective. He and my mother spoke a couple of days ago.”

“What? Brandee called you? How’d she get your number?” Rationally, I know Kirk would never sell me out to my mother, but his genuine surprise eases an ounce of the tension I’m holding.

“I’ve been wondering that myself.” Before, her attempts at blackmail were through my social platforms, never on my private number. “Maybe someone in the office?”

Kirk pinches his lips together and taps furiously on his tablet. “I’ll find out, and when I do, I’ll take care of the problem. BB, I’m sorry.” A pained expression settles on his face. “I really called to check on you. To see if you knew about the latest post. Not to hurt you. Or make things worse.”

“It’s okay, Kirk. I’m still deciding how to handle it. It’s worse than it’s ever been. She’s demanding more money, reaching out in new ways, being aggressive in her posts.” Iswallow the knot in my throat. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll go check it out.”

“BB, I’m not sure?—”

“No, I need to see it for myself. To make a choice.” About so many things.

With an understanding nod, Kirk says, “Let me know if you need me. Legal help. To talk. Whatever.”

Hudson’s large frame leans against mine, his face crowding into the camera’s view. “She’s got support here, too, but thanks.” He hits the end call button and pulls me into his arms. “You sure about this?”

I twist my fingers in the soft flannel of his shirt, my mind racing through the multitude of possibilities waiting for me. If Kirk felt the need to call, it’s not good. But my need for answers outweighs the fear.

On my nod, Hudson shifts me so I’m sitting in his lap, my head cradled against his shoulder. “Open it, baby. I’m here.”

As soon as I see the post, I wish I could turn back time. To thirty seconds ago, before I looked. To twenty years ago, before I kept a diary. Or, hell, to thirty-three years ago, before I was born. Any of those will work.

Sadly, time travel is a finicky bitch. What with not existing and all.

My stomach churns, and invisible ants crawl along my skin. It’s a video. In it, my mother, looking strung out and haggard, holds a worn spiral notebook. Doodles of hearts, flowers, butterflies, and bees decorate the faded cover.

“This is for all y’all thinking Blakely Bradshaw is so aspirational.”

Her savage smile widens as she flips through the pages. Then she reads.

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