Page 141 of Only Between Us

Summer mutters something that has Parker chuckling, before hewheels them both back around to face me and an amused Shy. “All right, Cee. I have an idea for you.”

I grimace. “What, another subtle attempt at reverse psychology?”

“No, I’m serious as can be now. I swear.” Parker lays his right hand over his heart, and though there’s a tilt to his mouth, his dark blue eyes are kind. “What if, just this once, you hit pause on this idea that you need to handle everything on your own? You go to your mom—the woman you just said would never want to see you unhappy. Put your faith in her and believe that she loves you enough to find a solution for you. Maybe you’ll even find one together.”

I’d been preparing to clap back at more of his nonsense. Had a whole slew of jabs just simmering on my tongue, waiting to be unleashed. But they fizzle to nothing at Parker’s words. Because he’s read me so clearly, has laid out just how unfair I’m being to Mom by keeping all this to myself. By not letting her be the mother she’s been to me since the moment we met.

“That was… annoyingly wise.”

A dimpled grin breaks over Parker’s face. “Not bad, huh?”

“You were right,” Shy tells Summer, who beams at her best friend with overt pride. “He is good at this meddling thing.”

Chapter49Siena

“Well, well. If it isn’t the prodigal daughter, home at last.”

Mom looks up from her crocheting, the colorful blanket she’s been slowly working on for weeks sitting on the kitchen table of my tiny childhood home. Her leg is propped up on a chair, with the cast she got what already feels like a lifetime ago. But as I creep into the kitchen, practically tiptoeing as though I’m doing something I shouldn’t, she straightens in her seat and nudges another chair out for me. I’ve shown up here early, hoping to catch her before the cribbage crew arrives.

“Hi, Mom. Missed you.” I give her a hug before sitting.

Her brown eyes narrow playfully. “Really? Could’ve fooled me the way you’ve been avoiding me all week. How was your trip?”

There’s a half-finished plate of pasta on the table. Though my stomach rumbles enough to entice me to help myself to some, I lose my appetite the moment the spaghetti touches my lips. I drop the fork, barely meeting Mom’s bemused gaze. “The trip was good. Great, actually. You saw he got signed?”

“I did—I sent him a text message as soon as I heard.” I manage a smile. Of course they’d have saved each other’s numbers after their day together. “He’sreplied to me, at least.”

My stomach pangs with guilt. I pick up her fork again, pushing around the sauce-covered noodles. “Yeah, I’ve…”Come on, you can do this. For Brooks, Pete, and Sophia.All the thought does is make my nose burn, though. Cause tears to well. “It’s been really hard, leaving him there. Feels wrong.”

“Oh, angel.” Mom leans over, catching my tears. “Long-distance isn’t easy. Especially with your history. But it’ll get better, I know it.”

Now. Do it now. Say the words: I’m not doing long-distance. I’m moving there with him. Please don’t hate me for it.

But then Mom reaches for her crutches and gets to her feet. She pulls me to mine and wraps me as best as she can in that hug of hers. The one where she squeezes me tight and gently strokes my hair, silently promises that she’ll keep me safe. It’s the same way she hugged me when I showed up here for dinner the day after she and Dad caught me in this very kitchen.

It feels so damn wrong, telling her here. The ultimate betrayal, confessing my desire to leave her and offload Dad’s pride and joy, in the very home they opened up to me as a child.

God, I wish Brooks were here. That I could’ve done this with him. Holding his hand, soaking in his soothing presence, his calming voice. I’ve never ached for someone’s help more than I do now, wishing for his. I’d texted him this morning, telling him tonight was the night. That I’d let him know how things went with Mom. But aside from the few messages we exchanged before he headed into camp for the day, he’s been unreachable.

Mom releases me several silent seconds later, balancing on her crutches. “Are you hungry? Should I fix you a plate of pasta?”

The doorbell goes off before I can answer. I check the clock on the microwave—I’m running out of time. “Bit early for cribbage, isn’t it?”

Mom shakes her head. “Can’t be them. They’ve never rung this doorbell in their lives.”

She goes to open the door, patting Pete’s giant head as they crosspaths in the kitchen doorway. He’d wandered into the house when we got here, but he comes to sit next to me now, regarding me with baleful eyes.

“I know, I’m being a wimp.” I rub his head. He groans his disapproval. I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t have to be so judgy about it. I’d like to see you do what I’m about to.”

“Siena?” Mom calls from the hallway. “Could I get your help out here?”

Pete follows me down the hall. He pauses with me when I stop to gape at the floral arrangement Mom gingerly tucks against her body. It’s massive, flowers ranging every shade of blue I can imagine.

“Who are they from?” I hurry over to help her, eyeing the white van backing out of the short driveway.

“I couldn’t say. There’s another one with a card addressed to you on the porch.”

I place the arrangement on the small table by the door and shuffle around her to get to the porch.What the hell?It’s another blue arrangement, about twice the size of Mom’s. I grunt with the effort of lifting the beast, staggering into the hall under its weight, my back hitting the wall. Useful, frankly, because I need the help supporting our combined weight.

---