Page 74 of Lemon Crush

“Oh.” The knots returned to my stomach with a vengeance. She’d taken Mom’s journals on that trip, and she wanted to talk about themnow?

She tugged me to the bed and sat me down beside her. “Reading them, being in Lesa and walking in her footsteps… August, I can’t tell you how deeply it affected me. I feel like I understand her better now. How she felt about us. Why she made some of the decisions she did. It was illuminating.”

“I’m glad you got to experience that.” Instead of illuminated, I felt nauseous. I had no desire to know what Mom had said in those journals.

People always bought me diaries and journals for birthdays and Christmas. I assumed it was like a teacher getting an apple.You’re a writer? Have a journal.They were usually lovely to look at, but I couldn’t delete or edit an entry without making a mess, and my inner thoughts were nowhere near as interesting to me as my characters. In the end, I’d left most of them blank and sitting attractively on my shelf.

Sam Retta, however, had been a journal addict. She was always writing in one and always adamant that they were private, and to be viewed by her eyes only. I used to tease her about secretly writing reports on us for the CIA.

Was Morgan saying she’d written how she felt about us—about me—in them?

Why wouldn’t you want to know that?

When I was young, I wanted to be telepathic. Then I wrote about a telepath and her life was miserable, because eavesdroppers—whether they’re scanning your brain or reading your journal—never hear anything good about themselves.

I was afraid that the image I had of her, and of how she felt about me, would change too much if I looked through them. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Morgan squeezed the hand she was still holding to get my attention. “Anyone seeing your situation from the outside might be worried, August.”

“What? Oh.” She’d switched topics again. “I know a lot has happened since you left.”

“‘A lot’ is putting it mildly. In less than three weeks, after a year and a half of nothing, you’re suddenly the busiest person I know.” She laughed without a trace of humor. “I’d ask if you were taking antidepressants, but the last time I suggested them, you didn’t respond well.”

Because the gynecologist had said my hormones were fluctuating too much for antidepressants to be a reliableform of treatment and suggested I meditate or see a therapist instead. She was also the one who said my lady store was closed, though she’d been completely wrong onthatscore.

“This is just me, Morgan.” I tugged lightly until she released my hand. “All natural and organic. I’m doing better, with no medication required.”

She stared at me with a small frown crinkling the skin between her eyes. “I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to get a handle on why you’d let Wade help you out by renting the apartment and giving you a job—bartendingandbilling?—when you’ve barely spoken to him in years.”

I’d called it. “I knew you’d think he was giving me charity. But I put the apartment up for rent before he showed up. That’swhyhe showed up. He had an app that notified him it was for rent and he wanted a place that wasn’t his sister’s couch and didn’t have a dog sitter straight out ofFatal Attractiontrying to put the moves on him.”

She scowled. “I’m never hiring her to take care of the kids again. And after the phone call we had when I got back, I doubt we’ll ever speak again either.”

“At least you have your priorities straight,” I sniped quietly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You stand up for your dogs while accusing your sister of taking advantage of your friend.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, but thank you for explaining. I understand the Wade situation better now, and I might have done the same in his shoes. And like I said, I’m thankful he was there when a tree fell on your roof. But that doesn’t account for the rest of it.”

“I think it does.” It seemed fairly straightforward to me. “Heaskedfor a place to rent. Bernieaskedme to help at the icehouse. Wade also asked if I’d help my goddaughter out by doing her work while she got ready to have her baby. They asked and I said yesinstead of no. Because it felt good to be needed, and I was tired of my life being in ‘shambles.’”

She pointed at me. “I knew that’s what this was about. You were upset when we left and you reacted by making out-of-character decisions. Like renting the apartment when you said you never would.”

I couldn’t argue with her about that. Ihaddone it in direct response to that morning at the drop-off. But it ended up being the right call, hadn’t it? “I’m not sure what you’re upset about, Morgan. These are all good things.”

She took a breath, as if bracing herself. “I think you’ve gone too far the other way. You’ve put so much on your plate now that you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

I frowned. “Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m serious, August,” she said earnestly. “You’re writing again and finally feeling better. You should be focusing on that. On finishing your book, fulfilling your contract and getting your life back. Instead, you’re doing computer work for Wade and waitressing for Phoebe, inviting Chick over and yes, deciding to sell the car that’s in better condition than your own so you can race in it, instead of keeping it as your backup.Racing,” she emphasized. “Putting yourself in danger in a speeding vehicle doesn’t sound like something I should be worried about? Something you wouldn’t normally do?”

“That’s the point. I wouldn’t normally do it, so now I’m literally taking the wheel. Trying something new.”

“It’s like you’re being deliberately obtuse. You were like this when you were younger too. You wanted to take on everything, then when one thing went wrong, you holed up in your bedroom and escaped into a book until one of us dragged you back out into the sunshine again. When I mentioned taking steps, I meant one at a time. You can’t make up for two years in under a month. It feels a little manic to me.”

Manic? I was manic now?

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