Page 80 of Finding Home

Fitz’s Human: Are you at the cemetery? I’m taking a lunch break. I could come by if you want me.

It was nice how he asked “want” and not “need.”

Elle: I appreciate that, but I’m just about to leave. How’s your day?

Fitz’s Human: Good but it will be better at 5:15 p.m.

Elle:Why?

Fitz’s Human: That’s when we come home to you.

Home?Pulse ticked up, she ran her thumb over his words and the selfie he’s sent of him and Fitz in his office. “My boys,” she whispered.

Elle: Remember, I’m going to Daryl’s with Tobey and Pete for dinner. I’m meeting them at 5 p.m.

She let out a loud snort at a second selfie of Clayton and Fitz, pouting. Although, it was Fitz’s normal face.

Elle: I’ll bring you a few slices of mushroom pizza that you can have after we work up an appetite by not being normal together.

Fitz’s Human: I like not being normal with you.

With a salacious smile that felt inappropriate for a cemetery, Elle made her way, through the rows of sun-soaked gravestones, towards the entrance. The residue of sadness from her interaction with her dead grandma fell away with each step. Reaching the cobblestone path that looped through the cemetery’s center, she spotted a small figure bent down at a grave.They were the only visitors in this solemn place. The figure was at the second marker from the path’s edge. As Elle’s eyes fixated on the dark blonde curls, her stomach knotted.

Mom… Who is she visiting?

Elle squinted at the back of the stone her mother crouched at. Wordlessly her mother rose and faced her. Reminiscent of gunslingers in a bad western movie, their stares squared off in a showdown between mother and daughter. Who will speak first? Who will walk away first?

With a deep breath, Elle’s steps resumed.

“Eleanor.” Her mom’s voice was soft.

She’d intended to walk on by, but her feet stopped, despite her will to keep walking.

Mom’s smile was shy. “You look good.”

“Excuse me?” Elle snarled.

It had been almost eighteen years since the woman who’d given her life had failed her. The last words her mom spoke to her before today was, “He wouldn’t do that. He loves me.”

This greeting felt too insignificant to be the first words she heard from her mom’s lips after nearly two decades of silence. Fiery indignation ignited in Elle. What did she expect? What did she hope for?An apology?

“I…”Her mom lowered her gaze to the ground.

Words are hard.

A flicker of something, hope or guilt, propelled Elle toward her mom until her eyes fell on the name engraved on the marker.Jamie Leicester.

Bile rose like a snake, choking and viscous. Bending over, she heaved, the acidic anger burning her throat as she vomited.

“Eleanor,” her mom soothed, wrapping thin arms around her shoulders.

“Get off!” Elle screamed and shoved her mother away.

Her mom stumbled to the ground.“Eleanor?—”

“I am notfuckingEleanor. I am Elle,” she bit out, wiping the sick from her mouth before facing her mother, who remained sprawled on the ground, her blue eyes welling with tears. Elle wiped her mouth again. “Are you visitinghim?”

“El…”

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