She sounded sad. Upset that her children were at odds with each other. And he felt … he didn’t know what he felt. But he never knew what he felt for his mother. The trouble was, he did love her. But his love had turned into a sore spot over the years. It wasn’t a nice feeling; it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. It was like a bruise. And when it got pressed, it hurt. He couldn’t take any joy in her being upset. But it wasn’t going to be enough to change his course either.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “I’m sorry that you’re upset. But I don’t think Danielle is a good mayor. And I think Jessie will do a better job.” He had really done it now. The silence on the other end had barbs.
“Danielle tries to be the best at everything she does—”
“Mom, she’s a self-serving brat. The reason you’re calling me is that she’s bent out of shape because of Jessie’s event yesterday, and she wasn’t nice. She’s not nice. I don’t know what else to say about it.”
“I just wish you had a better relationship.”
“How?” The words were raw, more fractured than he would like. “How am I supposed to have a good relationship with her? I don’t know her. And what I do know isn’t nice, isn’t welcoming.”
“You’re all my children.”
He was at a loss for words. He wanted to say that wasn’t true.Not in the way she was saying it. And she ought to know that. He wanted to say it would never be an equal playing field, but what was the point? He always had the feeling that if he called her out too directly, he was going to lose her completely, and he didn’t think he could bear that. He also couldn’t explain why. But his father was dead; his grandfather was dead. He had this one link to a parental figure, and he just didn’t want to break it. He didn’t want to hurt her. Which was insane, because the truth was, they hurt him all the time.
He wasn’t them, though. He never had been.
His mother particularly seemed to walk through life with blinders on. With a very deliberately obscured idea of their relationship. Of what they could be to each other. He saw everything far too clearly. He didn’t have the luxury of blinders.
“I’ve got to go. I have to take a shower. I have a reservation for dinner with Jessie.”
“Are you serious with her?”
God, he couldn’t do this.
“Pretty serious. Pretty serious. Thanks for asking. But I have to go.”
He hung up the phone, and stripped his clothes off, got in the shower, and rinsed as aggressively as possible before stepping back out and putting on a pair of black pants and a black button-up shirt that he tucked in. He knew how to clean up. He put on a black cowboy hat and a pair of black boots, and got in his truck, heading down to Jessie’s without replaying that conversation with his mother. He refused to do it, in fact. Instead, he thought about the glimpse of the little trailer he’d seen when he’d dropped Jessie off yesterday. She had been funny about it. Like she didn’t really want him to see. Did she think he would care about something like that?
His family had land, but growing up, they hadn’t had any money. He wasn’t snobby about things like that. He was a little surprised, given that he assumed she made decent money, but maybe she just chose to live in a trailer. Whatever the reason, it was nothing to be ashamed about.
He pulled up to the front of her trailer and got out. He didn’t text her, because he wanted to walk up to the front door. He felt compelled to look inside. The truth was, Jessie Jane was something of an enigma. A frustrating one. There were times when she was exactly what he thought she was. And times when she just … wasn’t. Times when she seemed softer and more vulnerable than he expected. Times when she seemed younger.
The front of her trailer was clean and decorated. There was a girly little table, a goose dressed in a costume, and … an alligator. He shook his head. He knocked firmly on the door, and the sound was a metal rattle beneath his knuckles.
“Just a second!”
The trailer shook a little bit, and then the front door opened. Jessie popped halfway out, wearing a red dress that was formfitting and showed her figure off in a way that made his body howl. Her dark hair was wild, and she had one earring in, easily putting in the other.
“I’m almost ready.”
She turned away from the door and started to put her shoes on. He got a quick peek into the trailer. Saw a turquoise curtain, little tea towels with apples on them, a bright pink refrigerator. He turned toward the area with her bed, and that was when she stepped right in front of him and out the door. “Nosy,” she said, brushing past him and shutting the door.
“Yeah. I am. I have to say, I didn’t imagine this was the sort of place you lived.”
“I’m trailer trash,” she said.
“That isn’t what I meant. It’s very girly.”
She looked at him, and a little pleat appeared between her eyebrows. “I’m girly, Flynn.”
She was so perplexed that it made him chuckle. “You are not. You’re tough.”
“Well, I am tough. But I am also very girly. I have rhinestone jeans.”
“You do.” He looked up at the sky. “Do you want to bring a jacket?”
“I’m good.”
