Page 113 of Time to Bounce

I didn’t care that she didn’t watch it.

All I cared about that she was invading my privacy and didn’t give a single fuck about it.

With how angry I still was, I almost didn’t continue up to the front walk to her house. I almost turned around and left this for another day.

I didn’t get to knock before the door was yanked open.

“You’ve rang,” I drawled, staring at her frazzled looking face.

She reached down and yanked me inside. “I’ve been trying to call you for days, Athena Murphy!”

I shook her hand off before saying, “I’m not quite sure what you expected from me when you invaded my privacy so spectacularly.”

My mother narrowed her eyes. “It was for your own good.”

I was already shaking my head. “No, it was for your own good. I’m done with the hovering, Mother. I wanted to come here today to let you know that I’m taking a step back, and really want you to understand the boundaries I’m putting into place.”

My mother’s mouth opened. “You’re what?”

“I’m done playing the obedient little puppy for you. From now on, you’ll have no access to anything of mine—including location and house. I changed my locks. I disabled all of my locations for you. And I want you to respect the boundaries, or you might very well lose the last daughter you have.”

Something crossed her face, and she looked almost… hesitant.

I didn’t like the look and the hair on the back of my arm started to rise.

“What is it?” I asked, studying her face.

“I, uh, have something to tell you,” she admitted.

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

This should be good.

She waited so long to tell me, though, that I began to grow impatient.

A box on the kitchen table caught my eye, and an opened letter sitting by it with cursive print had me wandering toward it.

Something about the handwriting was familiar.

Achingly familiar.

I reached for the letter and…

Memories assaulted me as I studied the handwriting.

Mom had beautiful handwriting.

She’d started learning calligraphy from a young age, and incorporated that into her everyday handwriting, making it look almost magical. Fantastical.

She’d started to teach both Mary Beth and me how to write our names in calligraphy.

That was about all I knew how to do to this day because I’d hated it. But Mary Beth had loved everything about it.

My eyes skimmed down to the bottom of the page, and I saw the signature.

Holy shit.

I dropped the letter and moved toward the box.

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