It was Cooter’s turn to nod, and thankfully, that meant the subject was closed.
For now.
ChapterEighteen
Reagan
Knowing I couldn’t put it off indefinitely, I made a pit stop on my way home.Dropping by to check in with my mother was not something I looked forward to, even if deep down I wished it could be different between us.I couldn’t remember a time when there wasn’t tension between my mother and me.Even as a teenager—especiallyas a teenager—I'd butted heads with her more often than not.
Then, when I started dating Billy, my mother hadn’t been impressed.However, I'd learned to deal with it as time went by, until one day, she started backing Billy more than me.I wasn’t sure how that had happened, or why.And I damn sure wasn’t going to think about it now.
“Whose truck is that?”my grandfather bellowed through the open window when I stepped onto the front porch.
I sighed, opening the screen door and moving into the dimly lit living room.My grandfather was sitting in his usual spot, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
“A friend’s,” I told him.
“What friend?”
Telling him the truth would likely only make things worse, but I didn’t want to get caught up in a lie.So, I took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
Before I could get the words out, my mother came storming out of the kitchen, her eyes wide.
“Reagan Marie,” she said in a huff.“Why didn’t you come by last night?”
I didn’t have time to answer before my mother threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly.
“I was so worried.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I assured her.
“But your bar blew up.With you in it.”She sounded hysterical.
“I know.But no one was hurt.”Not really, anyway.
“Where’d you go last night?”my grandfather asked.
Once again, I found myself tight-lipped.
“Whose truck is that?”my mother asked, peering over my shoulder through the screen door.
“Lynx Caine’s,” I blurted, preparing for the worst.
“Why are you drivin’ his truck?”
“Mine was damaged in the fire.”
“Christ Almighty,” my mother said dramatically.
“I hope you’re not mixin’ it up with that Caine boy,” Vic insisted.“He’s bad news.”
“Where’s Billy?”my mother asked, talking over my grandfather.“What does he think about this?”
“About what?”I frowned, trying to read between the lines.
“About you drivin’ that boy’s truck.”
“Mom, Billy and I broke up.”
