Page 107 of Pinkie Promise

“Some jackass talking smack–”

“Language,” she says in a frantic hush, her eyes wide as she gestures towards the baby in my arms.

“Shit, sorry.” I cover one of Wren’s ears and repeat quietly, “There was a jackass talking smack.”

“Oh my God.” My mom presses her palm between her eyes. “You do realise that you actually just said more curse words, and then repeated the ones that you said before, right?”

She tries to take Wren from my arms but I hold the baby higher so that my mom can’t reach her.

Wren giggles loudly, making me smirk down at my mom.

“See? She likes it when I hold her.”

“Why did you get into a fight that was so bad it gave you a black eye? Don’t you see how irresponsible that is?” My mom squints up at my cut and adds, “How’d you clean it?”

My cheeks instantly flame because technicallyIdidn’t clean it.

Fallon did.

I tuck Wren back against my chest, rocking her so that she doesn’t do her little attention-seeking scream thing, and then I grumble quietly, “That’s a lot of questions, woman.”

My mom stares at me for a beat before rolling her eyes. “Oh Lord, you really are your father’s son, aren’t you? Did you get into a fight over that cute girl you’ve got working here?”

My beet red cheeks answer her question for me.

“Aw, honey,” she coos, breathing out a sigh. “Why are boys so silly?”

She brushes past me out of the office and I follow her into the main room of the diner.

I can’t really justify acting like a brute, but I give it a shot anyway.

“You know I’ve stopped brawling like I used to. The fight was one-sided for a good two minutes before I finally got involved. The guy on the opposing team was talking shi–”

My mom shoots me thatyou’re holding a babylook so I quickly rephrase.

“I mean, the guy on the opposing team started saying some… real crude stuff, about her. About Fallon. And she was in the crowd too so I was worried that she’d hear him. Then he started pushing on me and when he said this one final thing I just…”

I shake my head at the memory. Wren bats my face with her baby-grow paw.

My mom collects the empty mugs from her patrons and when we get back to the counter she asks, “What did Fallon have to say? Is she the one who disinfected the cut?”

I look down and clear my throat. “Yeah, she cleaned the cut.”

She also kinda told me that she didn’t mind watching me fight, but I decide to leave that part out because I’m trying tonotfeel good about being a bruiser.

“That’s very sweet,” my mom says, reaching up to take the baby back.

My mom is pretty young for a mother of six. Somehow she always looks even younger when she’s holding Wren in her arms.

I give my mom a peck on the cheek and then jerk my thumb over towards my truck. “I have to get going. I’ve got practice and then…”

My mom raises an eyebrow at me with a knowing smile on her face. “And then…?” she teases.

I scratch roughly at the back of my head, avoiding her eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, laughing nervously to avoid her question. “See y’all later.”

“Mm-hm,” my mom smirks, and I hide my smile as I duck out of the front door.

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