Just having to talk to Mom makes me want to light up another Marlboro.
“Well,” she says, a tiny smile spreading across her lips, “I think you can stop worrying about her. They are weird. The whole family is cuckoo. I went out there earlier today—”
What the fuck.
“You did?” I practically shout at her. “Without telling me first, asking me? Was Jane—”
“No, calm down. She wasn’t there. Her mom sells”—she bats her hand around in the air”—potions or whatever, and some of the women have been out to her little shop, which is just a lean-to, really, to buy ’em, and so I went to investigate. For you, for me.”
I hate it when Mom meddles. Sure, I like for her to fix things, get me out of deep shit, do things for me, make shit happen, but sometimes…sometimes she takes it too far. Like hauling ass out to the Swift farm.
God, they must think we’re such freaks!
“Did you tell them you were my mother?”
Mom flinches, as if I raised a hand to her. Her eyelids are shaded in emerald-green eyeshadow; she blinks her fake long lashes so quickly, it seems like she’s trying not to cry.
“’Course I did. But the lady—excuse me, thevery strange woman—couldn’t have cared less. Seems like she doesn’t have a handle on Jane, like she doesn’t even like her. But I’m telling you, they arelow-rent. Beneath us. They can’t shine our shoes.Sonot worth worrying about.”
She’s talking so fast, I can’t tell whether she’s trying to convince herself or me.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t even say anything about you. Just mentioned to the woman that you were the same age as Jane. Nada more. Got it?”
I blow out a sigh. Roll my eyes. “Okaaay. So, like howwastheir place? Tonight Blair was saying how cool it is, which is so annoying—”
“It’s a real dump, sweetie.” She steps forward, tucks a lock of hair behind my ears. Her wrist smells like Giorgio, the perfume she’s worn for as long as I can remember.
I can tell she’s just saying that for my benefit. I’m sure Blair was right; I’m sure it is cool.
“Their house is basically a shack, and the shop is basically a shed. The woman was wearing this ugly dress, breastfeeding her baby in front of me, exposing herself—”
“Ewww!”
“Not a good scene. So chin up, young lady. The novelty will wear off soon. I promise.”
20
Jackson
Jackson switches off the Weed eater and thuds it to the ground. Sweat streams from his head, dousing his bare neck and shoulders.
He’s shirtless, wanting the sun to scorch his skin, turn it from pasty to the golden-chestnut color of Ethan’s. He’s been out here for two hours, head full of that man, edging the grass and pruning his muscadine vines. Working his biceps and triceps, which are not as sculpted as they once were.
When he lived in Dallas, Jackson hit the gym nearly every day, but here, well, he doesn’t want to work out with the upper elite. So he hits his home gym in his garage, pumping iron once a week—though, if he’s being honest, it’s dwindled to once a month.
He hasn’t been motivated. But now all he can think about is Ethan. His husky voice, his chiseled forearms, those butterscotch eyes.
I bet we have a lot more in common than you think.
Though it’s blazing out, the memory of those words sends a shiver over Jackson.
Ethan hasn’t called him yet. And he hasn’t dared to call Ethan. But he isdyingto. Is one day too soon to follow up?
A feverish chorus of cicadas swells all around him, a million violins being played tremolo, a term he remembers from high school orchestra, which describes fast bowing. Their vibration is so thick, it almost feels like he’s being ensnared by it, a physical membrane encasing him.
His backyard is paradise. Just half an acre, but he’s trained every square inch into something verdant: the organic garden in the southeast corner dappled with enough sun to grow pudgy tomatoes, pumpkin-colored habanero peppers, and leafy cilantro, which Jackson blends into jars of fresh salsa.
A gang of spindly pines rims the edge of his property just beyond his fence line, casting pools of shade over his lawn. The Saint Augustine grass that carpets this section is so lush—out of the sun’s reach—it almost looks like a green lagoon.
