Page 57 of Counting Quarters

Chapter Twenty Four

Blaire

Thingswerecomingtogether for our plan against Rayner, but it still felt like we were missing something. Like there was a piece of the puzzle we still hadn’t found, and that would be the one he used against us.

The covenstead went better than we expected it to, though. Doubt was placed on Mayor Douglas and the Quarters managed to get a few more people on their side, while proving they wanted to run things differently than their fathers had.

I wanted to stay back and make sure Kyle got out safely after Mayor Douglas tried to bring him down with him. He just subtly shook his head and sent a wink that told me he'd meet me at home later.

Before I could argue with him about it, Mom offered to walk me home and finally see my new place. She managed to keep her distance over the past few weeks, since the last night I lived with them at Grammy’s. Between her midwifery clients, the pharmacy, and covering shifts for Grammy and me at the hotel while we trained with the Quarters, she really didn’t have a lot of time to get out.

At least, that's what she claimed.

“It’s such a Blaire space,” she mused as we entered the main room, taking her time to absorb the tiny loft.

It felt smaller with her in here, like her big personality took up more space than the usual person's would.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” Her lips spread in an easy smile. “I love it. I love that you did it.”

I followed her to the couch, and we each took a seat. “Did what?”

“The one thing I couldn’t ever find the strength to do: you got out.” She turned to face me, tucking her leg underneath her body. Soft hands reached between us to grab my own. “I’m so proud of you.”

I shrugged, looking down at a spot on the carpet. “I didn't have much of a choice. Things weren't good between me and Grammy.”

“I know. I wish I could have done more.”

And maybe it was the victory of the night, but something had me bravely asking in an accusatory tone, “Why didn't you? She listens to you.”

Her smile faltered, morphing into a sad, contrite expression. There was a quiet moment where she debated what to say next. I almost convinced myself she was going to dance around the subject again, awkwardly dodging the elephant in the room. But instead, she surprised me by releasing a deep sigh, and then began explaining.

“I was so young when I had you. Younger than you are now. And I didn't have any idea who your father was, which invited a lot of nasty opinions of me. My mother was hounding me about the gifts… It was just so much at the time, and I think I fell into this pattern of allowing her to take over with you because it meant she wasn't pushing down on me. Like, I could breathe for a moment.

“And then I blinked, and that moment turned into years and she might as well have taken over the mother role completely.” She looked down at our connected hands and sniffled. “I know it sounds horrible. It's such a cowardly excuse.”

It wasn't, though. “It's exactly what I would have done.”

“No, it's not. You're different than me. I've always felt like… like my mother is the vessel that delivered me into the world, but maybe she isn't my true family. We're truly nothing alike. Maybe that's why the gifts skipped me… I don't know.” She swiped her finger across the bottom of her nose.

I couldn't imagine growing up and feeling that way. Like, the one person who should have accepted her for exactly who she was, was the one who shamed her for it. For all the things she may have handled wrong, for all of her flaws, Mom never made me feel like I was anything less than spectacular.

“Enough about me. I want to hear about your new landlord.” She wiggled her brows.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, please, Blaire. I saw the way he watched you across the room today.”

I shook my head, biting my lip to hide the smile that was fighting its way through.

“He's a good man. A little old for you, but good nonetheless.”

There was a moment I debated sharing the whole truth with her. To tell her about his odd gift and the way we bonded over it. How he understood being an outcast and never seemed to treat me the way everyone else in Beacon Grove always had. I wanted to gush with my mom over my first real experience with a man. But that openness I'd always felt with her seemed to have dried up somewhere along the way, stopping the words before they could pass through my mouth.

“I doubt it means anything,” I disparaged.

“You can't fight the fates.”

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