"I can't believe you still managed to get inside," I comment, closing my eyes and leaning against the seat.
A quiet chuckle rumbles between us, "I just love a challenge."
"How did you do it?"
He tsks me, "I'm not telling you. Come on, it's more fun that you don't know, huh?"
"No, it's not." It'snot.
"Liar," he grins. "Hey, by the way, I haven't had a chance to talk to you about the other day."
"That's fine,” I say with overtly fake pleasantness, “because I was really looking forward to not telling you about it at all."
He goes silent, as he tends to do, so eerily quiet I can't even hear him breathing. I peek through a barely open eye just to find him tapping impatiently on the steering wheel.
"Imeant," he says finally, "I wanted to thank you. You didn't have to step in, but you did, and I really appreciate it. Butnowyou have to tell me what Skyler said."
"Nothing really," I tap my toe. "I mean, it's not like he said anything that wasn't true. He just made a point of telling me that he knows a lot more about my past than I'm comfortable withanyoneknowing.
"Like what?"
Ugh.
There's not a chance in hell I'm going to dive into why I got fired at my last job. Of the truths Skyler revealed he knew, one seems easier to tell Cormac: "He said I have mommy issues."
"Do you?" He chuckles quietly. "Weren't you just at lunch with her?"
My head snaps towards him, "How did you know that?"
"You must have mentioned it to me, maybe when I was over the other night," he explains, but I'm positive I didn't tell him about that because talking about Janet is something I avoid even with my closest friends.
I was already suspicious when he texted me as soon as I got home, but that can be explained by his waiting outside. Creepy? Definitely. But waiting for me at home is far less invasive than following me wherever I go.
Isn't it?
When did I start thinking inlevelsof stalking and trying to justify it in my head?
Probably the night he held me and let me unravel, then spent hours putting together a pain-in-the-ass security system without any expectations of something in return.
It felt good to be taken care of. Even if that care came at the expense of my ethical clarity.
"I don't know that I have mommy issues," I continue, hoping to steer clear of theotherthing Skyler called me out for. "I just think my mother has issues and I'm the only child that speaks to her so they all fall on my shoulders."
"None of your siblings do?" he asks.
I bark out a laugh, though none of it is fucking funny, "Husband number five was husband number four's son-in-law first."
His jaw drops in horror, "You're kidding."
"I'm not." The reminder of it makes me sick with guilt. From that moment on, I couldn't blame the rest of them for abandoning the sinking ship that was our family. Not a single one of my siblings even speaks to each other, thanks to years of her wedging us apart with competition and comparisons. "God, I wish I was."
"Not to pry, but if she's so terrible, why do you still deal with her?" he asks me a question I've asked myself more than once over the years. Even earlier today, in fact.
I blow out a breath, hoping the heavy emotions in my chest might go with it.
They don't.
"I don't... I don'thaveanybody else," the confession spills out, the humiliation of it turning my stomach sour. I'm not sure why I'm the one feeling guilty about it. It's not my fault that my mom skips from marriage to marriage, city to city, and dragged me along with her until I was old enough to leave. But I never got to build a relationship with anyone. Never learned what a family is supposed to look like. "She's never hit me. Never let anyone else hurt me either. She may not have been amom, but she's still the only constant I've ever had. Eventhough sheconstantlylets me down, she's still there. How could I leave behind the only person who's ever stuck around?"
