“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say again, desperately trying to ignore the unease when she doesn’t respond. “Good night, baby.”
It feelslike I barely blink before I fall into a deep, unexpected sleep.
When I drag my eyes open next, the morning sun is glaring through the cracks in the curtains, and the sheetsbeside me are cold. I’m surprised I slept and that it was relatively dreamless, but I still feel exhausted to my bones.
I sit up, scrubbing my hands over my face, listening for sounds of Gracie moving around, but the apartment is silent. The significance of her leaving without waking me makes my stomach swoop.
There’s been plenty of sleepovers when one of us has had work the next day, and kissing each other goodbye in the morning was one of the easiest habits to make. Even if I was still sleeping, she always came in to give me a peck, just to let me know she was leaving.
The silence surrounding me feels thick with accusation, and my head throbs. I don’t linger in her apartment. Ican’t, unable to bear being surrounded by Gracie, even when she feels miles away.
I’m not even sure where I’m going until I land on my mother’s doorstep. I send a quick message to Gracie before I head in, desperately hoping she’ll answer.
Braxton
I’m sorry for last night, Rumpel. Can we meet for lunch today?
The door opens, and I look to find my mother standing there with a glower on her face. I look over my shoulder, trying to figure out who the expression’s meant for.
“Braxton,” she says grimly. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.” Her eyes flick down to the phone in my hand, and I have a vague recollection of seeing her name in my missed calls.
I slick my tongue over my teeth, watching her cautiously. “Yeah?” My lips kick up in a smile, but she just stares at me, her face not even twitching. “You gonna let me in, Ma?” I step toward her, expecting her to move out of the way, but she doesn’t move an inch.
“I’m thinking about it,” she says, her tone moredamning for how quiet it is. “I’m not sure I feel like talking to you right now.”
Taken aback, I gape at her. “What?” I shake it off. “Just let me in, would you? It’s cold out, and I’m sure you don’t want Joanie McFarrel poking her nose into our business.”
Mom immediately cranes her neck, narrowed eyes fixed on the house across the street. I follow her stare, catching the curtains twitching in the front room. “Nosy old biddy,” she mutters.
“Let the boy in, Raewyn,” my father calls out from within the house. I fight back a grimace because he sounds as grim as she does. “If anything, I’d like to know if he actually made it to his appointment yesterday.”
My mother’s expression softens slightly, but her movements are stilted and grudging as she steps to the side, dramatically waving me in.
“Into the kitchen with you,” she grumbles uncharacteristically. “I’ll make you a coffee.” She shuts the door with a firm snap, eyeing me frostily. “But I amnotmaking it with love.”
Bewildered, I follow after her. “I guess I’ll be happy as long as you don’t spit in it,” I mumble, and she whips another glare at me over her shoulder.
“You’ll take what you’re given,” she says threateningly. “I won’t hear another word about it.”
I hold my palms up in surrender as we make it to the kitchen, finding Dad sitting at the island, a newspaper held up in front of him. “I wouldn’t push her this morning, Braxton,” he advises, eyes never leaving the page he’s reading.
I take a seat across from him, ignoring the way Mom has started slamming cupboards and drawers across the room. “You know you can just read the news on your phone, right?”
He lowers the paper, peering at me over the top. “Idon’t like the small writing. And my thumbs keep pressing stuff I don’t mean to press.”
Mom scoffs. “Lies. We both know you meant to click on that busty woman. Maybe next time you’ll learn to read before you start pressing things.”
My lips twitch as I bounce my stare between the two of them. “I’m scared to ask.”
Mom forgets she’s irate with me long enough to chortle as she explains, “It was a Viagra ad. Fat thumbs indeed.”
“It was two weeks ago, Rae,” Dad grumbles, his cheeks flushing a dull red. “Let it go already.”
“I will not.” She sends him a sharp grin over her shoulder, but it drops rapidly when she narrows her eyes at me. “And I haven’t forgotten about you either.” I can’t remember a time she’s ever spoken to me like that, voice trembling with a mixture of disappointment and rage.
“What? What did I do?”
My father snaps the newspaper closed, laying it down beside his coffee. He watches me, eyes careful, but doesn’t say a word. When I shoot him a questioning look, he only shakes his head, eyes sliding toward my mother.
