Page 7 of Always Mine

“Pax?”

I blink, eyes focusing back on my mom as I take in her concerned expression. “Sorry, I zoned out. No onions for me.” I force a smile on my face when she looks me over with an indistinguishable expression before going back to eating some more of my food.

This is one of those moments when I wish I could read her mind. Wyatt used to say he could read her expressions like a book, but me? I never had that talent. She’s always been a bit mysterious to me. Like I can tell she’s thinking something, but I just can’t tellwhat.

Fuck, there I go thinking about Wyatt again.Get out of my head.This is a spiral that I can’t go down. Especially with all this free time on my hands as I wait for physical therapy to start.

“Here you go.” Placing the meatball sub down in front of me, she goes to make her own, and a rush of guilt floods my stomach once more.

“Ma, why don’t you eat this one? I can make my own.” Standing, I instantly plop back down when she cuts me with ‘the look’. The mom one. I’m pretty sure everyone in the world knows what I’m talking about. “Never mind.”

My stomach grumbles when I inhale, taking in the smell of fresh basil, marinara sauce, and spices. It’s been too long since I’ve had this, and I eagerly take a bite and then another, not at all caring about the molten lava exploding across my tongue.

“Slow down, heathen. It’s hot,” she scolds, coming to sit beside me.

“Burnt taste buds are worth it,” I push out, despite my full mouth.

“I see your manners are also lacking.” Shetsksplayfully as she slides me a glass of water. “Drink this. You can always get more if you want.”

I give her a little salute, taking a sip of the water before grabbing my sandwich once more. “Yes, ma’am.” I take another bite, unable to stop my moan—I’ve missed her cooking. I turn to take in her profile. I missed her most of all, despite only just seeing her a couple of weeks ago.

Leaning into her side, being careful with my busted arm, I take a moment to absorb some of her warmth. “It’s so good, Ma. Thank you for making it, and for cleaning up my disaster of an apartment. I’m sorry for letting it get so bad. I’ve just been…” I trail off, not really sure what to say.Depresseddoesn’t seem like the right word, but I guess it is.

“You’ve been dealing with a lot, Pax. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t struggling.” Reaching up, she swipes my hair off my forehead to comfort me. “I wish I could stay longer. Be here more. Just with work and all the seasons changing—”

“I know, Ma,” I cut her off. I know how much work she has to do back home, even though I wish she could stay. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

We turn back to our food. “Too late for that, kid. I’ve been worrying about you for almost twenty-two years, and I’ll worry about you until I die. It’s my job.”

“I’m fine,” I tell her, and I know what expression is on her face without even looking at her.

“There’s a ton of things I want to say to that, but I won’t because you’re stubborn and won’t listen to me anyway.”

Swallowing another mouthful, I tilt my head to look at her with astonishment. “I listen.”

“We got two different definitions of that word then.” Her tone drips with sarcasm.

Damn, she’s more sassy than usual today. “When don’t I listen?” I throw out, wanting to mess with her back.

Her eyes gleam and I really wish I hadn’t asked that. “Third grade, licking a frozen fence post to see if your tongue would really get stuck after I told you not to.”

I shrug, eyes zeroing in on my plate. “I saw it in a movie and had to test it out.” I can’t help but wince, remembering how much that hurt.

She doesn’t waver, taking a sip of water before saying, “Sixth grade, skateboarding off the hood of my car after I told you not to.”

“That was all Bryan’s fault and you know it. He dared me.”

“And you still broke your wrist,” she tosses back, not missing a beat. “Tenth grade, racing your four-wheeler after I told you not to, then wrecking into a tree.”

“Hey! Nothing was broken that time.” I throw up a finger gun, not at all caring how lame I look.

She rolls her eyes and jabs my side with a finger. Damn, I wish she’d stop doing that. “Ten stitches in your left leg from where you pinned it though.” She rubs her temples and I know for certain she’s exaggerating. I’m notthatbad. “I don’t know how I’m still alive. You’ve put me through the wringer on more than one occasion. I’m bound to have a heart attack someday.” She taps her chest as she speaks, like her heart is palpitating at the trip down memory lane, and it dawns on me where I get my overreacting tendencies from.

Let's be real, she’s worse than I am.

“Pssh, Bryan is the difficult one.” I should feel bad about throwing my brother under the bus, but he’s not here, so he’ll never know anyway.

She ponders that before finally shaking her head. “No way. He’s got an attitude problem, sure, but he’s not a daredevil. You’ve managed to take ten years off my life.” Despite her scolding, I can’t help but smirk. I should defend myself more but decide against it. What’s the point? She always wins, even when she’s wrong. It’s the mom way.

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