“Mom’s going out tonight.”
“Okay?” he said, like this was normal.
“Alone.”
“Oh.” He paused for a beat. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
He sighed. “She’s an adult, Jane.”
“Barely.”
“Maybe, but this could also be a good thing. Keep me posted. I’m heading into a meeting now. Try not to worry too much, though. Maybe she’s just finally getting her mojo back.”
I doubted that. Intensely. But Colin hung up and I had to admit he had a point. Mom was, in fact, a grownup. I just didn’t have a good feeling about this coming when just a couple weeks ago, she’d been paralyzed with fear over the Westwood dinner.
Shoving my phone back into my coat pocket, I looked up just in time to see Wyatt take his opponent down with a clean, brutal sweep that ended with the other kid flat on his back. The crowd erupted and Wyatt’s hand was raised in victory.
I leaped to my feet and cheered, whooping and clapping along with everybody else. Then I settled back down and tried tofollow my brother’s advice not to worry about our grown mother going out by herself.
After the wrestling meet, Wyatt was ravenous. He never ate or drank anything all day to make his weight class, which always made me nervous even though he insisted it was fine. We left the school together, walking out into the nice, calm winter evening.
Snow curled to the ground in slow spirals, but the walk to the cheap, greasy burger joint he liked wasn’t far. Wyatt tugged his hoodie up around his ears, his duffel bouncing against his hip as we crunched through the snow.
“I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole cow,” he groaned.
I chuckled, my hands buried deep in my pockets and my chin tucked into my scarf. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
A little bell above the door jingled cheerfully when we walked into the diner, and we were instantly immersed in the heat blasting our faces. I inhaled deeply, the scent of old oil, ketchup, and heaven infiltrating my nostrils and making me strangely grateful for the turn our lives had taken that had led us to discover the joy of places like this.
Together, we trudged across the dimly lit dining room and claimed a booth. Wyatt practically inhaled the menu with his eyes. “I’m getting two doubles. Maybe three.”
“You’ll get a heart attack.”
He shrugged, gray-green eyes twinkling as he glanced up at me. “At least I’ll die happy.”
The waitress came by, her pen tapping softly against her notepad as she grinned at us. “What can I get you folks tonight?”
We placed our order, and while we waited, I leaned forward and tried to keep my voice casual. Wyatt was like my baby. I’d mostly raised him, and since he’d only been twelve when Dad had gone away, he was the one of us who remembered the least ofthe before.That made it more difficult for him to understandexactly where we were at right now, as a family and the keepers of a hundred-and-fifty-year-old company we would never stop fighting for.
“So,” I said. “How’s life going?”
He picked at a paper napkin, not really looking at me. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I echoed. “That’s a very detailed assessment.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll know about Yale in a few weeks.”
There it is, that tiny flick of worry inside him. The giant tsunami inside me.
I nodded, doing my best to keep my expression steady. “You’ll get in.”
“Maybe.” He scratched at the condensation on his water glass. “It’s Yale. They’re not really known for taking just anybody.”
“You’re a top student,” I reminded him.
