Page 49 of Moon Blind Hearts
Sawyer
“Way to go, asshole,” I say, popping Cash on the arm. “You scared her.”
“It wasn’t me!” Cash growls. “It was Oak telling her I love her. Christ, man! It was way too early for that.”
“It was the truth,” Oak grumbles.
“That’s beside the point,” Cash replies, his face twisted with annoyance. “If she runs away now, it’s your fault.”
“She ain’t runnin’ anywhere,” Oak grumbles, crossing his arms.
Cash gestures toward the street where Jules disappeared, his arm making a sound that tells me which direction she went. I can’t chase after her. That would be like chasing a needle through murky water. But I want to. I envy Cash and Oak for having the choice.
“Enough,” I say, gesturing toward the table. “Just focus on selling this stock. She’ll take the time she needs and come back when she’s ready.” I hit the table. “Make sure to push the Stagborn Strong cheese. It’s the bestseller.”
My mind chases after Jules, wondering how overwhelmed she is, wondering what it is that makes her afraid to stay.
Us, or something worse?
My instincts tell me it’s something worse. Something far worse.
And I don’t know if we’re equipped to handle it.
Chapter 28
Jules
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
I look up into the pretty blue eyes of a woman. The blues of hers are much softer than mine, like a cornflower color, and I realize that blue eyes can be more warm than cold sometimes. Her blonde hair is all done up to perfection on top of her head, not a strand out of place. She’s wearing high rise skinny jeans and a crop top that shows off a bit of skin. Somehow, she looks more comforting than I’ve ever been able to.
“I’m . . . fine,” I croak, rubbing at my forehead.
“Are you sure?” she asks, clearly worried. “It’s just that . . . you’re sittin’ on the dirty concrete, pale as a ghost, and clearly one beat away from losin’ it.”
Wincing, I look up at her. Her southern accent is thick, far thicker than the accent everyone else here seems to have. She’s not originally from here, that’s clear.
“Just, you know . . . panic attacks,” I say nonchalantly, waving away her concern. “I’m fine now that it’s passed.”
“Oof,” she says, taking a seat against the wall beside me. I stare at her in surprise as she sets down a bag beside her and leans her head back. “I know all about those.” She turns toward me. “I’m Naomi, by the way.”
“Jules,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you, Jules.” She studies me more closely. “I ain’t seen you around her before, but I noticed you were hangin’ out with the Udder Nonsense boys. They didn’t do somethin’ to upset you, did they?”
“No,” I reply quickly. “No, they’re great. Just . . . my own stuff.” At her suspicious look, I add, “I’m a mom.”
Her eyes light up as if it all makes sense now. “Oh, good god. Me, too. I swear my daughter likes to give me a heart attack once a week. How old is yours?”
“Thirteen months,” I reply.
Naomi whistles. “A baby! You’re in for a real treat as they grow older. Mine just turned twelve and let me tell you, when they start parroting your attitude back to you, it’s a whole other beast,” she says, laughing despite her words. It’s clear she loves her daughter dearly in the way she smiles about it. “Bein’ a mom is hard, ain’t it?”
“The hardest,” I nod, tipping my head back. “I worry every day that I’m a bad mom.”
“Ah, see, that’s how you know you’re a good one,” she replies, bumping her shoulder with mine. At my questioning look, she continues. “Bad moms don’t worry if they’re bad or not. Only the good ones do.”
My brows furrow as I think about her words. I’ve been struggling to figure out the mom thing since Genie was born. I had no one to ask, to turn to, so I’ve mostly been going off of what research I could find online. Mostly, I just know what kind of mom I don’t want to be, like my own, and I’ve gone from there. But Naomi’s words spear into my chest and settle there.
