Page 88 of Facing the Line

With another deep sigh, I glance at my mom, still asleep in the backseat. I fight the resentment that fills my chest. I look at Jonas. “What’s the plan?”

He gives a competent nod and exits the car. “I’ve got it. You just need to lead the way.”

He opens the back passenger door. His hands are so gentle as he unbuckles and catches my mom, sliding out.

Her eyes blink open, bleary. “Hadley, I knew you’d see the light.”

The light? Is she having a near-death experience? I grab the bag of supplies from the surgeon’s office and hustle to his side as he carries my mom.

I point to the correct building—they’re all the same, gray and black, sparkling with newness—and raise my brows at my mom. “Are you feeling okay? Because?—”

“I feel great,” she cuts me off with a giggle. “I knew you’d end up with a hockey player.”

I swallow the rage that bubbles in my throat as I let us into the lobby. She’s loopy, but how dare she make assumptions? Jonas doesn’t meet my eyes as he heads towards the elevator. I press the up arrow and take a deep breath. “We talked about this last night, Mom. Jonas is just a friend.”

She snorts, inhibitions apparently gone with the drugs flowing through her system. “I see the way you look at him. And vice-a-verse. Vice-verve. Vice-versa.”

“Uh-huh.”

We get in the elevator, and I jam the button for our floor, but unfortunately, she keeps speaking. “It’s the butt.”

“Pardon?” Jonas asks, an overjoyed smile spreading across his face.

My mom pats his head, her motor skills like that of a toddler cuddling a stuffie. “Everyone knows hockey players have the best butts.”

When did the elevator get so slow? He raises his shoulders in a tiny shrug and grins. “She’s right.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

That’s a lie. Of course I noticed. Jonas has the best ass in the entire world. But I’m not saying that out loud.

My mom must agree. “Better than football players. Better than baseball players. Better than?—”

“Mom, we get your point.”

Finally, the elevator doors open, and I sprint out.

“I, for one, would like to know what else my butt is better than,” Jonas says, his voice brimming with delight.

“I’m sure you would.” I hold the door to the condo open for him and plaster a pleasant expression on my face. “But we should probably get this delirious patient settled.”

“Deli-rus?” My mom slurs, barely able to form this word. “I’m not delri—del—what’s the word?”

“Loopy, Mom,” I say, my voice dry as the desert.

She manages to look affronted though she’s being carried into her home and practically wrote a sonnet about hockey butts. I keep my sigh in check.

“Mom, we’re gonna get you all set up in your bed.” Jonas and I walk past her living room. The new modern furniture is straight from a magazine spread, and I doubt anyone has sat on it, ever. She’s upgraded since I left at Christmas.

I open the door to her room. Her king-sized bed looms large in the space, and I try not to stare at Brandon’s stuff scattered on the far nightstand. I guess he’s moved in. I kinda figured, but it’s not something she and I had talked about.

Like most things in our relationship, I guess. When was the last time she called or texted? Only now because she had no one else to take care of her.

“Okay.” I fluff the pillows and force a smile. “The doctor said you’ll be most comfortable if you sit upright.”

Jonas sets her down, and I fetch a blanket and the TV remote. “Here you go.”

Putting the remote close by, I get her all tucked in. Before I can leave, she grabs my hand.

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