“Did he say anything to you?”
I pause with one word still ringing in my chest.Please…
“You didn’t give him the chance, did you?”
I groan, my shoulders slumping as I stare at her, hoping to find all the answers my heart needs. That she could fix the mess in my head.
“No,” I admit. “I ran away. He came looking for me… and then I ran away again.”
She snickers, her hands rubbing up and down my arms, before pulling me into a hug so tight, I melt into her. Soft lavender clings to her, the scent so familiar it calms my racing heart.
“Well… running away is one way to go about it,” she says, pulling away. “Or…” She pauses, leading the way out of the bedroom. “You could, I don’t know, confront him? Talk to him? Maybe… Hear him out?”
Always so logical, my mom is. I know she loves Hunter. Hell, I think she always hoped we would end up together, from the moment she met him. He charmed her without trying, sweet-talked her, fixed little things around the house like he belonged here. She called on him more than she called on me some days… and my damn heart loved every second of it. So, of course, she’s been playing devil’s advocate these past few months. Quietly holding out hope that his rejection, his silence, and his disappearance come with a reason good enough to forgive.
“Argh, Mom.”
“Don’targhMomme. You’re the one not being mature about this and running from your feelings.”
“I’m just…”
“Not ready?” she finishes for me.
“Yeah. I don’t know what my feelings are right now. I just know that no matter how hard I’ve tried these past six months… I’m still hurt.”
I watch her move around the kitchen, packing her pre-made dinner into her bag, grabbing her water bottle, then her keys. There’s a familiar ease in the moment, a rhythm I’ve watched for years. She circles the counter to where I’m sitting on the stool, and I make no move to follow her. Forsome reason, my soul feels like staying; it feels like home here.
“It’s okay to need time,” she says, dipping down to kiss my forehead. “Especially when he suddenly shows up with no warning. But don’t wait too long. You’ll only end up hurting yourself more.”
My smile is weak, but I know she’s right.
“Stay here tonight. Call your girls. Invite them over, talk to them. Lean on them.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I push to my feet and follow her to the front door, grabbing my phone from the table where I dropped it earlier with my keys. My fingers tap the screen, but I pause, staring down at our group chat. Something about being in this house—her house—makes everything feel safe. Maybe it’s the way it smells like lavender, or maybe it’s just her.
She reaches for the door. “I’ll be back early in the morning. But when I wake up, we’ll make breakfast, okay? You and me.”
“Okay.” I smile.
There’s nothing quite like a breakfast morning with Momma Claire. How the sun shines through the sheer curtains, catching the dust in the air like glitter. The old-school music she plays instantly lifts your mood. The buttery smell of waffle batter warming on the stove, sweet strawberries sliced on the counter with some tangy citrus zest. We don’t do savory in this house. No eggs or bacon here. We Taylors like our breakfasts sweet and tangy. Like life, if you do it right.
“Hey, Mom,” I call as she opens her car door.
She turns back, eyes catching mine across the yard. “I hope your pink scrubs cheer up the little girl tonight.”
A soft smile spreads across her face, and she gives me asmall wave before climbing into her car. The engine purrs to life, headlights blinking once as she pulls away down the quiet street.
Feeling the best I’ve felt all day, Hunter practically forgotten, a small smile tugs at my lips. I turn on my heel, heading back to the lounge room where I sink into the deep, plush couch. Grabbing a pillow, I set it over my legs, curling them underneath me. An exciting buzz runs through me at the thought of the girls coming over.
We Don’t Text Him
The group name is going to have to change at some point, but right now, the reminder isn’t so bad. The petty girl in me wants to keep it as is… Maybe Halle will change it.
I type out a quick message to the girls.
Me: Girls night at Mom’s?
Little dots instantly appear. Before I can lock my phone, a reply comes through.
