Page 175 of Catch the Sun

“Not mad about it, honey.”

Smiling wide, I send her off with a wave and disappear inside before making my way to the tiny bathroom for a shower.

But first, I read one more chapter ofBlack Beauty.

***

“I’m good, Mom. Stop worrying.” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder as I fumble with a lip-balm cap, my boots sloshing through half-frozen puddles strewn along the small-town sidewalk. “There will be plenty more birthdays you can crash.”

Mom is in Cancún with Ricardo.

My birthday is tomorrow.

Therefore, Mom has guilt.

“I feel awful,” she moans, despite the music stylings of a mariachi band playing in the background, mingling with laughter and windswept waves. “You’re all alone on your birthday.”

“I’m not alone. I have Natine, horses, my own sparkling company, and an infinite number of books to read.”

“I wish I could be there.”

I smile softly. “I love you, but you’re full of lies. You’re in paradise with your boyfriend, sipping cocktails on the beach. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be and you know it.”

Her tone is still laced with melancholy. “But you’re turning twenty-one. That’s a big deal.”

“You’re moping, Mother. You need to perfect the brood.”

A rumble of laughter echoes through the speaker. “You’re right. I do have an excellent coach.”

“You do,” I agree. “And that coach would love for you to visit over Christmas, so we can brood in tandem to gloomy Johnny Mathis songs.”

“I can’t wait to see you, honey. Please be safe. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. Happy birthday.”

We disconnect the call and I slip my cell phone into my purse as I veer toward the bar entrance. My smile lingers while I think about how far my mother has come in the wake of our catastrophic family upheaval. It hasn’t been easy for any of us, but Mom was truly put through the emotional wringer. She dedicated years of her life to getting her son out of prison, only to watch him go right back to a jail cell a few months into freedom.

Thank God for Ricardo.

Kai’s father has been the biggest blessing, keeping Mom busy, laughing, hopeful, and growing. They have no plans for marriage and are content being partners, both of them having lived through respective messy divorces. Their dynamic works. They travel often and love hard, and I can’t recall a time when my mother was happier.

When I approach two familiar cement steps that lead up to a towering sable door, I reach for the handle and swing it open, a rush of warmth hitting my face as I step inside.

“Ella!” Anderson flips a bottle of tequila in his hand like a pro from behind the bar, sending me a wink as I enter. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“My birthday is tomorrow, but thank you,” I tell him, pulling off my black beanie and smoothing down my hair. My tresses have grown out to the middle of my back now, after the shorter cut I had due to my surgery. I pull my hair over both shoulders and make my way to a vacant barstool.

“The usual?” Anderson side-eyes me while serving another customer.

I nod. “Yup. Make it a double.”

A minute later, two glasses of bubbly Dr Pepper are sitting in front of me. I inhale a big sip of one of the sodas through a straw and almost choke.

Anderson snorts a laugh. “An early birthday treat.”

“That tastes like rocket fuel,” I mutter through a gag. “Rocket fuel that’s been laced with liquid fire.”

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