I managed to keep myself together for the entire ride home, but Jesse didn’t make it easy. Not with the way he casually pushed the sleeve of my hoodie up to my elbow and spent the drive tracing feather-light lines up and down my arm.
Jesse’s love language is physical touch, no question. He always has some part of his body touching mine. He’s constantly reaching for my hand, pulling me into him. And even though I’ve never been the kind of person who craves that kind of affection, with him, I can’t get enough.
Being with Jesse today has felt effortless and fun. But that comes to a grinding halt the second Jesse turns into my apartment complex. The carefree glow from our day together evaporates in an instant when I see Cara’s car parked in the visitor parking. Right away, I know something isn’t right.
A cold spike of dread spears straight through my chest. She didn’t tell me she was coming. Sheneverjust shows up.
I dig my phone out of my purse to see that I missed a message from my sister a half hour ago.
Cara: Code Red. Actual 911. Mom is on her way to your house. She says she wants to talk some sense into you. We’re on the highway now. We should be at your house within the hour. I’m texting you so you’re not blindsided. Brace yourself.
“What’s that look about?” Jesse asks, concern in his voice. “Mads…are you okay?”
I swallow hard, forcing my eyes from the message to him. “My mom’s here.”
His entire body stiffens. “Here? As in—right now?”
I nod once.
Jesse’s jaw clenches. A slow, dangerous breath leaves him. “Okay. I’m coming in with you.”
“No.” Panic snaps inside me like a rubber band. I grab his forearm before he can unbuckle his seatbelt. “Jesse, please. I don’t want you in the blast radius.”
“Mads.” His voice is gravel. “I’m not letting you walk into whatever this is alone.”
“My sister is here too. I appreciate you; I swear. I don’t know what this is about, but I need to deal with my mom on my own.”
He studies me a long moment, eyes searching mine, seeing more than I want him to. “I don’t care what she says or thinks about me. Idocare how she treats you.”
“I’ll be okay,” I whisper. “I promise.”
“If she upsets you in any way, I need you to call me, and I’ll come right over.”
“Okay. I promise.”
He exhales, nodding reluctantly. “But I want you to promise me that you’ll call me when she leaves.”
“I promise.”
Reaching for my face across the console, he covers my mouth with his, kissing the frown right off my face. I slip out ofthe car and walk to my apartment, a sense of dread growing with every step. I push open my front door to find my mother standing in the entryway wearing a tailored camel coat and a look that could curdle milk. Cara is standing next to her with Marigold strapped to her chest in a baby carrier, offering me a helpless, apologetic wince.
My mother steps into my tiny living room, looks around my apartment like she’s stepped into a crypt, and breathes out, “Oh, Madeline.”
Nothi. Nothow are you? JustOh, Madeline, like my apartment has personally offended her.
It’s only then that I see Lottie, who is now part of this mess. I try to convey to her with my eyes how sorry I am. She gives me a reassuring grin and steps forward politely. “Mrs. Ashcroft. It’s been a while. I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Lottie, I went to St Margaret’s with Madeline.”
Mom’s eyes flick to her, up and down. “Of course, I remember you. You were on the debate team.”
“No, not much of a debater. I played the violin in the orchestra, though.” Lottie gives a small smile because she is sunshine. Mom does not smile back.
“Ah, that’s right,” my mom answers as she continues into the apartment without waiting to be invited. She goes to drop her purse on the couch, but thinks better of it, instead setting it on the table—but not before taking a tissue from her purse and wiping off the surface. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
I brace myself as mom surveys the living room, the bookshelf, the cozy throw blankets, the half-eaten nachos still on the coffee table. She sighs. “I suppose we might as well sit. We have a great deal to discuss.”
She perches on the edge of the sofa, smoothing her coat beneath her with sharp, precise movements and then looks at me expectantly.
I sigh, crossing the room to lower myself into an armchair. I grab the floral throw pillow and clutch it to my chest. Lottie hovers in the entryway long enough to catch my eye and I give her a tight, grateful smile.
