Page 92 of Renegade

My heart fell down to my feet, but I kept my expression blank. “I think he does.”

Her voice became impatient. “But, has he told you?”

I shook my head and gathered up my things. “No. He hasn’t told me.”

It wasn’t necessarily true. He’d told me on the phone that he did, but then he took it back later that night. It didn’t count in my mind. I’d felt like he was close to telling me on my birthday, but something held him back.

Her eyes seemed shiny for a brief second before the mask fell back into place. “Well, maybe he’s just passing the time with you.”

“She said he was just passing the time with me,” I sighed, before sticking another spoonful of rocky road ice cream in my mouth. A couple of Ibuprofen and ice pack between my legs later, I was finally getting some relief.

Monica paused with her empty spoon resting against her lips. “That’s bullshit and she knows it. The man’s in love. She’s just trying to intimidate you. What’d you do?”

I’d called Elizabeth after leaving Mike’s house in a hurry, but it went to voicemail. There was no way for me to tell Mike what had happened without throwing his mother under a bus and I wasn’t sure that we were at a point where he’d side with me. So, I called Monica, who’d dropped everything and come over with my favorite ice cream.

“I just left. I told Mike that I had a migraine and then I called you.” It was obvious that he was upset when I canceled our plans, but what else could I have said?‘Hey, your mom pieced my lady-bits back together and is now blackmailing me to get the evening alone with you?’

Monica reached over and squeezed my leg. “She’ll come around. How could she not? You’re adorable.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

Her smile grew. “You haven’t called me mom in twenty years. I’d forgotten how much I liked hearing it until now.”

She was right. I’d called her Monica for as long as I could remember.

I shrugged it off. “Well, you are my mother. I was simply stating a fact,” changing the topic, I added, “Tell me something good. I need it to balance out the shit day I’ve had.”

Monica grinned. “Well, after seven hours of testing and one day of waiting impatiently, I am pleased to announce that I passed my GED.”

Ice cream forgotten, I threw my arms around her neck. “What? I had no idea you were going to take it. That’s awesome!”

“I wanted to surprise you. I’ve been thinking about it since May and I thought, what the hell? It was time to make some lemonade with all the lemons life had given me. Like you did.” Her expression was full of hope.

I leaned in and hugged her again. “I’m really proud of you, Monica. What’s next?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Well, I’m going to college. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse and I’m forty-four now—there’s no time like the present.”

I stirred the remaining ice cream around in the container before tentatively asking, “So, the motorcycle gang doesn’t care about all of this? You getting your teeth fixed and going off to college?”

I knew I’d already found flaws in courtroom dramas, maybe motorcycle gangs were incorrectly portrayed on TV too.

Monica’s smile faded. “I don’t belong to them; I belong to Torch. He was an addict too, so it was like we were meant to find each other. What helped him was removing any reminder of the addiction. So, he paid for me to get my teeth fixed and then he encouraged me to finish high school. Activities keep the mind occupied and not thinking about the next fix, you know?”

Without thinking, I blurted out, “Do you miss using?”

I kicked myself immediately after for it.

She didn’t seem bothered by it though as she quietly answered, “Yes, every day, but I keep a list in my pocket of all the reasons not to. Some highs you can’t get from drugs, Lauren. Like you calling me mom—it’s better than any fix.”

I placed my ice cream down on the coffee table and stared blankly at the television.Could I go back to having a mother? Was past hurt so easily forgiven in the light of sobriety?

A soft knock on the door saved me from answering my own questions. I hopped up and answered it. “Mike?”

He held out a bouquet of flowers and a plastic bag of canned soups. “What are you doing here?”

I still hadn’t had the heart to tell him that I didn’t like flowers, so he brought me new ones almost every time I saw him.

He leaned against the door frame, a sexy smile playing on his lips. “You said you had a migraine; I thought I’d stop by and see if you needed a doctor.”

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