But she dropped the baseball bat she was holding and pulled me into her arms.
“Sorry, Mom.”
She released a breath. “It’s fine, sweetie. You just scared the shit out of me.”
I wrapped my arms around her and sank into the familiar, comforting feeling only a mother could create. “I’m sorry. I forgot to call you.”
My mom always smelled the same way, and I swear she’d been using the same perfume since before I was born. A citrusy, floral scent only achieved byBurberry. Those hints of tangerine reminded me that everything would be okay, just like when I’d been a child.
She pulled back and looked at me, her hazel eyes roamed my face, laced with concern. “Are you okay?”
There were a few more wrinkles around her eyes from the last time I’d visited her. Proof that I’d stayed away for too long. My mother was adamant about her skincare routine. If she showed any signs of aging, it wasn’t from lack of trying.
Looking at her now, I never realized how much I favored my father. I had my dad’s light brown eyes, wavy brunette hair, and medium complexion. My mom was blessed with straight, light brown hair, hazel eyes that changed in the light, and a fair complexion.
The only thing I didn’t get from my dad was his height. Even my mom was considered average. Somehow, I was the runt of the family, barely hitting five foot two.
“I’m fine, Mom. I wanted to make it in time for the fashion show today. Plus, I didn’t attend Noah’s funeral, and I wanted to offer my condolences to the Richey family.”
She nodded in understanding. “Well, come on in. Do you need help grabbing anything?”
“No. I’ll grab my bags later. I need a cup of coffee, and I know you have a pot on.”
She grinned. “Always.”
We spent the next couple of hours talking and catching up. I kept my new problems with Elijah to myself. I didn’t want her to worry more than she already did. Whatever I needed to do, I would do it on my own.
Ididspill the beans on Jamie proposing to Blake and my mom had squealed with excitement.
Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t know it was coming.
When the time came to get ready for the fashion show, I ran out to my car, grabbed my bags, and carried them into my childhood room.
I threw them on the floor before collapsing on the edge of my old bed like a sack of potatoes.
My gaze danced around the room, moving from the boyband posters hung on the walls, to the Beanie Babies I’d displayed on my dresser to, finally, the photos pinned above the headboard of my friends and me.
Nostalgia enveloped me as moments of my childhood were displayed before me, each an essential piece to the puzzle that made me who I was. My arm thrown around Blakely’s shoulders as we tried to conquer the awkward stage of our lives called ‘the teenage years’. Pictures of us wearing blue eye shadow and black choker necklaces, others with black clothes and heavy eyeliner.
There were plenty of photos of me with the entire gang—our poses always witty and never serious. It didn’t matter how often our parents tried to get a decent photo of us. Someone always stuck a tongue out or made bunny ears. It was how we were, and made me love my friends even more.
I once tried to get a picture with Liam, and even he made it a joke.Next to Blake, I’d been closest with him. Just another reason it was so important for me to be here and support both of them.
One other photo caught my eye, and the corners of my mouth turned up as I looked at Jade and me on stage at my school’s talent show. Somehow, we’d convinced her mom to let her miss school and come up to Fayetteville to participate. Wesang together, belting out the lyrics to our favorite anime opening with matching cosplay. I wasn’t sure where we’d gotten the gumption for the performance, but it happened.
Back when we believed we’d make it as singers, neither of us realizing how harsh the world was.
A crisp knock sounded on the door before my mom cracked it open and popped her head inside. “Are you decent?”
I rolled my eyes. “Even if I wasn’t, would it matter? Considering you gave birth to me and all.”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask. Didn’t want to catch you doing anything indecent.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, maybe a little self-love.”
“Ugh! Mom! Gross!”
