Page 53 of We Can Forever

No. I don’t know that.

“What’s up?” I open a window and fan the smoke in its direction, hoping to prevent the smoke alarm from going off again.

“Well…I met Hannah.” Her lips curl into a knowing smile. “She’s pretty.”

“She’s more than that.” My heart skips a beat. How much longer till she arrives for dinner?

I glance at the clock. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes too long.

“…at the town meeting yesterday,” my mom is saying.

“Huh?” I turn back to her. “Sorry. What was that?”

“I saw Pat at the town meeting.” She starts folding my dish towels that are strewn around the kitchen. “He’s worried that you’re completely ignoring your father’s plans for the firehouse kitchen.”

“Mom.” I stare at her, hoping that alone will be enough to end this conversation.

But apparently it won’t be. “I’m serious. He’s not happy about this.”

“It’s not his project,” I sigh. “He doesn’t need to be happy about it.”

“Just hear him out.” Finished with the dish towels, she moves on to inspecting my fridge. “You’ve had this ketchup for months.”

“It’s good for months.” I cross my arms over my chest.

She closes the fridge. “He’s been in this business for years, and he’s helped half the town remodel their businesses at one time or another.”

I cock an eyebrow. Surely she knows she’s exaggerating.

But maybe she doesn’t care. She just wants me to do things her way, like everyone else—or, more specifically, my dad’s way. Saint Ted Greer.

“You know, Mom, I did run my own contracting business for years, and I’ve worked in fire stations for even longer. I’m pretty sure I know more about what the fire station needs than Pat does.”

This isn’t about what Pat thinks. It’s about what my dad thought. But it doesn’t matter. Either way, I won’t be caving. I know what I’m doing, even if no one in this damn town agrees.

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “You are being so defensive and hardheaded.”

I freeze, her words a knife to my gut. Those are the two things my dad always accused me of being. It’s like she’s pulled the labels out of the dusty drawer just to hurt me.

My hands curl into fists, and my exhale burns my nostrils. “Have a good night, Mom.”

Because I can’t stand to look at her a moment longer, I stalk out the back door and onto the porch. My shoes beat a heavy rhythm across the wooden planks, back and forth as I try to calm down.

How could she even think of saying that to me? Does she not see how hard I’m working every single day? Does the fact that I moved Katie here and took up Dad’s torch at the fire station not mean anything to her?

My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out. Hannah’s name flashing across the screen is a cool balm to my heart.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hi.” Her voice is strained, and there’s chatter in the background.

I frown. “Everything okay?”

“I’m at the hospital with my crafting group. I’m sorry, we won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.”

I clutch the phone, panic taking hold. “The hospital? Are you okay? What happened?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s Maya. Her lupus. She’ll be okay, but we’re all going to stay here.”

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