“Heather.” Adam’s voice is soothing. “It’ll be okay. You did what was best for your family. We don’t know what this is yet. Maybe they found something in each other the way we did.”
“But sleeping together? What kind of mother would I be if I just let them...” She drags in a breath. “I should stop this. Move out? We could live somewhere else.” She doesn’t seem sure, but it’s all I can hear. It’s why I hid this from her. “But go where?”
Damon slides his hand beneath my hair along my nape and tucks his head to kiss the top of mine.
“You’re not leaving, Heather. Not an option. We need to talk about this. With them. They’re eighteen. Nothing illegal is happening here. She didn’t look like she was forced to be there. They were sleeping. She hasn’t been acting strange, like she’s being taken advantage of. We’ll figure this out.” Adam must have stood. “Would you go make some coffee for us please? I think this talk is going to take clear minds.”
“But—”
“She’s safe here, Heather. You’re safe here.”
What does that mean? That I’m safe with Damon?
“You’re right. I just...”
“Coffee, love.” The sound of a kiss precedes her footsteps walking away. Damon gives it a minute before leading me in. I don’t want to do this, but there really isn’t a choice, unless we want to get on his bike and just ride away. Not really an option. We have futures to work towards. School to finish.
Adam sits in a chair with his head in his hands. He looks up as we walk in. His face is resigned, but there’s a little relief when he focuses on our hands.
Damon and I sit on the couch, our thighs touching, still holding each other’s hand. I don’t think I can release his. I’m probably crushing it, but he doesn’t wince, just holds me.
What do I say? What can I say? We’ve been caught. All we can do is stick with the truth. Or you know, some version of it that doesn’t make my mom move us out.
Adam sits up and puts his hand over his mouth. His hair sticks up oddly, like he just got out of bed himself. Apparently he doesn’t know what to say either. He walked in on me in bed, obviously naked, on top of his son, also naked. So much worse than morning coffee with Hawk’s dad when I was wearing a t-shirt and panties.
The only bright spot of this is that I’ll truly understand humiliation. Helpful for acting and directing. I could list it on my resume.Personal experience of mortification: check.
Mom comes in from the kitchen with a tray of coffee cups. The tray shakes slightly, rattling the cups.
Her gaze locks on my hand in Damon’s resting on his thigh. Her lips pinch, but she doesn’t say anything. Her hair is up in a messy bun, like an afterthought. She has a robe on over her pajamas.
She thought about taking me away, but Adam talked her out of it. Would she have done it to protect me or because she doesn’t want me with Damon? Why move us out at all?
She hands me a cup of coffee and then gives one to Damon. Her smile is tight. I take a sip, finding she’s added a little creamer and sugar for me. The way I like it. She settles in the chair next to Adam and sighs.
It feels like no one wants to start this conversation. Everyone holds their coffee and sips at the hot beverage. I don’t think there’s enough caffeine to make this conversation any easier.
Adam and Mom don’t make eye contact with us, but I’m not looking at them either. He knows I was naked on his son, and he told my mom.
“Was there a reason you came into my locked room?” Damon asks Adam casually, taking a sip of his coffee. Trying to be on the offensive, nice. But I don’t think our privacy is going to get us out of this one.
Adam winces and runs a hand through his hair. He glances at Heather. “Heather got a text about EvanAnn. She went to her room and didn’t find her. Her bed was made. I came to your room to get you to help look for her.”
My cheeks burn, but I can’t help being curious. “What text?”
“It was an unknown number.” Mom is paler than normal. “It was an old advertisement from the eighties.Do you know where your children are?”
“Have you received a lot of texts from unknown numbers?” Damon asks. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing I am. That maybe my stalker is reaching out to Mom too.
Mom’s cheeks pinken, and she glances at Adam. “Not many.”
I look at Damon. We should tell them about the texts I’ve been getting. Right? I never told Mom about Jackson. Maybe I didn’t want her to worry. But after the thorns on Sunday, maybe it’s time to bring her in. Especially with her getting texts too.
What if there’s something she hasn’t been able to make sense of? Some clue that would tell us for sure who my stalker is?
“We need to talk about where EvanAnn’s been sleeping.” Adam tries to bring it back around tothat. I’d love to avoid talking aboutthatfor as long as possible. Maybe we could not talk aboutthatat all.
“I know you’re probably hurting from your breakup with Chase,” Mom begins. “And it’s common for girls to seek... comfort in the arms of someone else...”
