Page 64 of Villainous Summer

“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted.”

Holding two mugs of coffee, I came out of the kitchen and set them down for the ladies.

I sat beside Summer on the couch, my arm alongside the back, fingers dangling above her shoulder.

Mom sipped from the mug, grimaced, then set the drink down. “Sweetie, you know I love you, but you really need to learn how to make a decent cup of coffee. This is like sex in a canoe.”

Beside me, Summer blinked as if trying to make sense of that comment.

I groaned, then whispered, “Fucking too close to water.”

“Damn straight,” Mom barked before taking another sip and setting it down on the side table. “It’ll do for now, though. Now, tell me how you two met.” She narrowed her eyes, assessing me. “Let me guess, it was about six weeks ago? Am I right?”

Summer sucked in a breath between her teeth and glanced at me in surprise. “Did you—”

“No, I didn’t say a thing.” Somehow, my mother was as shrewd as ever.

I shook my head. “Mom.”

“I am, aren’t I?” She clapped her hands together in triumph. “I knew a little something was going on. A mother knows these things. Tell me, tell me. This place gets so boring.”

With a raised brow, I shot Summer a glance. “Go ahead. I’d love to hear you tell the story.”

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she seemed to be considering how much truth she wanted to tell and tapped her nails together before fisting her hands. “I ended up in the neighborhood, for reasons that aren’t important.” She shot me a warning glare. “And it started raining, so I sought refuge in Van’s—oops—I guess it’s your house. Only the door was unlocked, so I kind of let myself in. Van found me in the hallway as I waited for my ride. I’m lucky he didn’t call the cops on me.”

“I’m still considering it.”

Strictly speaking, Summer told the truth about our first meeting, but there was something more. She said it wasn’t important why she was in the neighborhood, but no way was that the case. I didn’t need to know her life story if she didn’t want to tell it. But a part of me, at the very least, wanted to know that whatever I got from her was true.

I saw her that day, and the more I got to know her, the more I could tell she had been through something upsetting. I was no detective, but every day spent with her, it was getting easier to put the pieces together in a muddy narrative.

Mom raised a brow at the story but didn’t question Summer.

Summer’s phone rang, and she excused herself onto the back patio.

The sliding door hadn’t been shut for more than a second before my mom said, “You really like this girl.”

Leaning back against the couch, I scowled at her. “It’s not serious.”

“Not serious. You brought her here, didn’t you?”

“Because I thought you had an emergency. It wasn’t intentional.”

Mom hummed in disagreement. “Don’t act like you aren’t crazy about that girl. I see the way you look at her. Reminds me of my younger years.”

“Sorry if I don’t trust your judgment, since the last person you dated was Rick,” I retorted, then cursed myself for the comment. Scrubbing my face with my hand, I rested my elbows on my knees.

“You’re not your father, Donovan. Rick was—is—a complicated man. I knew that when I married him.”

“And yet you stayed. After everything he did.”

Mom pointed at me, her tone sharp. “You don’t get to judge me for my choices. Your father is not evil, just weak. He couldn’t handle my sickness, so he pulled away. It happens.”

I snorted. “Right. Just like how he fell into his assistant’s vagina.”

Mom quirked a smirk at that comment. “He’s not perfect. But no one is. But I made mistakes, too.”

“Don’t make excuses for him.”

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