Page 10 of Defender

“No,” her mother insists, pushing back a strand of dark brown hair. She shares a lot of the same features that Zoe does.The same nose, dark hair, and almond eyes. They’re beautiful women, though her mother seems to be consumed with anger. “I want to know who that is, Zoe. Please tell me this isn’t the man from the internet. I told you he was a swampfish or whatever you call it.”

“I was at the lake, Mom. There’s bad reception at the lake.” Zoe tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear. I’ve noticed over the months that she does this when she’s nervous.

“And you were at the lake withhim?” Her gaze stays fixed on mine. “Who is he?”

Zoe takes a deep breath, and though I’m sure I’m crossing millions of boundaries, I step in behind my bee and wrap my hand around her waist in comfort. I can’t bear the thought of her doing this alone.

I’m all for being flexible, and if her mother weren’t the worst faker of all time, I’d walk away and give them both the space they need for recovery, but that’s not what’s happening here. “Zoe,” I lower my tone and rest my hand under her chin, “can I talk to you outside?”

“No,” her mother blurts sitting up in bed. I see more clearly now that her color is good, and her eyes look bright and focused, not at all like someone would look if they were in pain. “You can talk to my daughter right here. Who are you?”

Zoe sighs. “Mom, you’re sick. Lay down. You need your rest.”

“Zoe Anne, I asked you who this man is, and I expect an answer right now.” Her tone is sharp and angered.

I reach my hand forward. “Name’s Gunner,and I’m the swampfish.”

Zoe laughs under her breath, and I get the feeling that she’s caught onto her mother’s bullshit as well… which sucks. This girl has endured enough pain in her life. She doesn’t need anything else to manage. If I were guessing, I’d say she needs along hot bath, a shoulder rub, a slice of pizza, and a long, hard snuggle. The kind of snuggle that makes you forget where you are and how long you’ve been there.

Her mother’s jaw drops, and for the first time since we arrived, her blood pressure does spike. “He’s so much older than you, Zoe! What are you doing?”

“I’m not asking your permission,” Zoe sighs, reaching out for her mother’s hand. “I love you, Mom. I love you so much and I want you to be happy, but I want to be happy too, and I’ve found that with Gunner.”

Her mother looks past Zoe and straight to me, her eyes narrowed as she pulls the fluids needle from her vein. “Who the hell are you to come in here and talk to my twenty-three-year-old daughter? You’re manipulating her! Get out!” She steps toward me, holding the hospital gown in place. “Get the fuck out!”

“Sit down,” I groan, unwilling to move. Part of me expects a doctor or paramedic to come in and break up the argument, but they’re all busy flirting at the front desk.

“Excuse me?” Her face turns a shade of red I’ve never seen, but I’m not backing down. I’m here to defend Zoe, no matter the cost.

“You heard me.” My jaw tightens. “Sit down.”

Her mother laughs and stares at Zoe as though she wants her to do something about me, but Zoe has been through enough today. I can take over from here.

“I understand that you’re Zoe’s mom, and you want the best for her. I want that too, which is why you need to hear what I have to say.” I glance toward Zoe before gripping her hand in mine. “Your daughter is the softest, sweetest, most genuinely gentle person I’ve ever met. Even in her strength she’s soft, and someone like you thinks that’s a weakness, but I say it’s her greatest strength. I noticed this week that while smallthings hurt her, small things also make her happy. A kiss on the forehead, a trip to the lake to photograph an old building, a garden bed of weeds. She sees things in the world the rest of us ignore, and I refuse to let anyone hurt someone that pure.” I squeeze Zoe’s hand in mine. “So… out of respect for the role you’ve played in her life, I’m going to give you one last chance to make this right. If you can’t, I’ll pick her up and carry her out of here until you learn how to talk respectfully. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Her mother opens her mouth and closes it again, the lines on her forehead accentuating how frustrated she is.

Maybe I’m out of line. Maybe Zoe hates me now. Maybe after only three months, I have no right on planet Earth to protect her so fiercely, but I can’t help myself. This woman is everything. I see that now more than ever. She’s mine to defend, mine to protect, mine to hold on to and never let go.

“I love my daughter more than anything. You don’t even know her.”

Zoe drags in a deep breath. “Mom, are you really sick? Were you really having heart issues tonight or were you upset that I didn’t answer my phone?”

Her mother darts her gaze away then back again. “Zoe… I… you promised me you’d answer your phone when you were out. I worry about you. It’s a basic rule.”

Hitching her hip, Zoe looks toward her mom. “I’m not trying to push you away. I love you. I’ll always love you, but let’s not pretend that you see me. You need me here because you’re scared. You tell me to check in, you tell me to come for breakfast, you tell me I’m not being safe, but you never dive deeper. You never want to know why I photograph barns. You never ask me about my leg or if I want to stay in on Friday nights. Gunner does. He listens. He wants to understand me. He knows me. Ican make a big deal about our age, I can… because it’s weird, but I don’t know… I can’t let go of him. I just can’t.”

“I don’t need to ask you those questions, because I already know the answer,” her mother quips. “This guy is using you. You just can’t see it yet.”

Zoe smiles. “You think you do, but you don’t… and that’s okay. I know you’re dealing with your own trauma. I miss Dad, too. Every single day I miss him, but this attachment is unhealthy. We need to live our lives for him. He wouldn’t want you home all the time. He wouldn’t want us arguing.”

“He wouldn’t want you with a man this old either.”

“Would he want you faking your death to trick me into coming home? Would he want you holding me back from living my life? For the love of God, Mom. I’m grown!” Zoe’s voice is ragged with tears, and though I want to respect this situation, it’s too much for my girl. I lift her into my arms and stare at her mother, disappointed in her choices.

We’re nearly to the door when the faintest voice turns us back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have messed up your night. I’m… I miss your dad. He was my best friend. I…” A tear rolls down her mom’s cheek, but she wipes it away quickly as though she doesn’t want to make a huge deal out of what she’s feeling. “You’re young. You should be living your life. I know that. I just…” She cuts herself off before she reverts back to her ways. “Get out of here and live your life before I say something wrong.”

Zoe turns back and kisses her mom on the top of her head. “I’ll stop by for breakfast on Saturday. I love you.”

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