Page 54 of Clara Knows Best

“My mom, doofus.”

“Oh. Nah, I don’t think so.”

“She was more than a normal foster mom to you. You really loved her. Mother love is unique and sacred. If she told me to get lost, I’d be devastated.”

“Same,” Nash put in. “Makes it even worse that Mom’s not the judgy type. Extra shocking.”

Jesse thought about that. Yes, he had taken it pretty badly. Worse than a breakup.

“Maybe not as shocking to Jesse as it would be to us,” Clara hypothesized, watching him thoughtfully. “Maybe you were able to believe it because, in a way…you’d always kind of expected it.”

He’d come to the same conclusion. People had a tendency to see what they expected to see, and he’d spent his years among the Wilders waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why shouldn’tthey reject him, when his own mother had? How could strangers love him, when his own mother couldn’t?

“But,it must be kind of nice,” Clara went on, “knowing Mom wasn’t willing to write you off, in spite of everything.”

Was it nice, knowing that Dr. Wilder hadn’t ever given up on him? He dug deep for some kind of emotion, but he was still numb.

“I mean, you’re not even her biological son, but that soundskindof like unconditional love.”

He stared at her, frowning. Unconditional love? Didn’t exist.

Clara smiled, and his attention was drawn from her warm brown eyes to her mouth.

“You’re like a gardener,” Beck interrupted, addressing his sister. “Walking between tidy rows of soil, sowing little seeds and sprinkling them with water. Tossing out weeds.”

“Yeah,” Nash agreed at once. “Tending his emotional garden like a spirit guide.”

“Spirit gardener,” Hart murmured absently, and tossed an egg up. It landed on the knife like it was supposed to, and all the boys cheered.

Jesse wanted to tell them that he didn’t need anyone to guide him through his own emotions, but he wasn’t sure if it would be the truth. He had no idea what he should be feeling, so he might as well hear Clara out.

“Did you notice when Beck came into the bathroom this morning and saw you, he just acted like it was normal to have you there?” she recalled. “I’m sure Nash told him everything later, but at that point, he didn’t know anything about what had happened downstairs, but it didn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, glancing at Beck, who was watching Nash’s attempt at egg-cracking with an older brother’s judgmental eye.

“Oblivious,” Clara added, smiling at him again.

Her lips were a soft shade of pink, just a little bit glossy, and perfectly shaped. “Mm.”

“Or,” she suggested, “love.”

He tore his eyes from her mouth. “You think Beck loves me?”

She leaned across the counter to smack his shoulder, and she didn’t hold back; it stung. “We all love you, moron. You’re not the only one who felt rejected for six years. Everything you’re feeling today, we’re feeling, too.”

He looked at each of the boys and then back at Clara. “I hadn’t really thought about what you guys were feeling.”

“It was like you died,” Beck said flatly, without looking away from the egg game. “Just…no funeral.”

Jesse winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hart said curtly. “Obviously.”

“We’re just glad you’re back,” Nash added—Mr. Silver Lining.

“Don’t you feel like…you don’t really know me anymore?” he asked them curiously. “I mean, Nash, you were a little kid last time I saw you. Beck still had braces.”

“Dude,” Beck objected.

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