My legs weaken when I find Weston’s mom waiting there. She spins to face me, and her expression is intense and, if I’m honest, a bit rage filled.
I flip my eyes to my grandfather, but he crosses his arms over his chest and goes to stand near the window, his back to us. He’s punishing me. I look at Dorothy Ambrose.
“Hello,” I say meekly.
She scoffs and gets to her feet. I brace myself for her verbal assault, which seems to be the only sort of communication we’ve had since the night Wes was taken to The Program.
“Dr. McKee warned you about the consequences,” she says. “But you didn’t listen. You never listen.” Her eyes, so much like Wes’s, are watering with anger.
Well, I’m not just going to admit that I did anything wrong. “What are you talking about?” I ask. My grandfather looks over his shoulder at me, disappointed.
Dorothy tightens her jaw. “Weston came home and told me about this ‘pretty girl’ he met. Said you went for a ride on his motorcycle. Skipped school. I could guess who it was.”
First, I have no idea why Wes would tell his motheranything. They weren’t even close. Unless... maybe they are now since he doesn’t remember that she can be a serious bitch sometimes.
“We didn’t discuss our relationship,” I say. “He has no idea. And it was Wes who asked me to lunch. It was Wes who wanted to come back here. So don’t put this all on me.”
“You should have said no.”
I laugh. “That’s ridiculous,” I say. “I love him, and you know that.”
“That’s the problem, Tatum,” she says. “You never do what’s best for him.”
“You don’t know what’s best for him,” I snap.
She shakes her head like she can’t believe how pathetic I am. It cuts me, and I take a step back from her. My grandfather turns around to look at both of us, ready to intervene in case this breaks out into a physical altercation. “You’re a kid,” Dorothy says instead.
“I’m eighteen,” I remind her—although my birthday isn’t for another two weeks.
“Don’t you understand?” she asks. “You’ve ruined his life twice, Tatum. Do you really think I’ll let you do it a third time?”
“Twice?” I say. “How did I ruin his life the first time? He left me, remember? He—”
Her face enflames like she’s about to tear into me, but my grandfather walks over and takes her by the arm, pulling her toward the door.
“That’s enough, Dorothy,” he says in a hushed tone.
Wes’s mom yanks from his grip and glares at him. “Get ahold of your granddaughter, Charles, or I swear I’ll get a restraining order.”
He tilts his head, demonstrating that she’s being irrational. “The boy came to her,” he says. “Have the discussion with him.”
“You know I can’t,” she says. “The doctor advised against it.” She leans past him to look at me again. “Leave him alone, Tatum. He needs to get his life back—one without you. One he deserves.”
She makes it sound like I’m the problem of his life. Like it wasn’t The Program or even the epidemic. Well, fuck her.
“You don’t know anything about us, Dorothy,” I say simply.
She narrows her eyes. “I know that you’re a danger to both him and yourself. Stay away from us.” And with that, she turns on her heels and sees herself to the door, slamming it shut after she walks out.
My grandfather and I are left in the living room with the echo of her anger. After a moment, he looks over at me. “You okay?” he asks.
“I guess,” I say. Her threat did its job; I’m shaking. “Not sure why Wes decided to tell her about me,” I add. “But it must mean I made an impression on him.”
My grandfather smiles softly. “I’m sure you did. The two of you have always had a connection.” He pauses. “Dorothy isn’t wrong, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. But she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.” I shrug an apology for my language.
“You’d be surprised how far a parent would go to protect their child,” he murmurs, and darts his eyes away from me.
