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Young lady? I stared at her. Damon got sweetheart and I got young lady?

“Intentions with what?” I questioned.

“With Damon.”

I blinked. “Isn't that a question you're supposed to ask him?”

“Who says I haven’t?”

Oh, this should be good. “Care to enlighten me?”

“He's serious about you.”

My stomach dipped. She’d fallen for the act, which would only lead to more drama when the final curtain came down on our fake relationship. I’d been sure my mom, of all people, would have sniffed out the false narrative we were pushing. “Mom, it’s not what⁠—”

“That man looks at you like you're the answer to a prayer he hasn't even said yet.”

I laughed. “You’ve seen us together for two seconds.”

“I don’t need to see you together.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I listened to him talk about you, the things he said and the things he didn’t say.”

“And that gave you insight into how he looks at me?” Make that make sense.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

I took a deep breath. “Damon and I are taking things day by day.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

Uh-oh.

That was Claudia Parson's I'm-about-to-say-something-deeply-inappropriate-and-call-it-wisdom face.

“Mikayla Rayne, don't you dare break that boy's heart.”

First and middle name? I stared at her, and my jaw dropped. Literally. “His heart?”

“Yes.”

“Mom, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

She studied me. “You're scared.”

“I'm not scared.”

“You've always been scared of things you can't control.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.

Before I could come up with a response, Damon returned, water bottle in hand.