Page 33 of Wild Card

She nudges me and hums the tune this time.

I inhale deeply, taking in the smell of cut grass. The sun warms my skin, making its presence known. For the first time in months, there’s no sign of snow anywhere as the early spring teases us.

Wolf struts along the path, his tail wagging eagerly at the return of our Saturday morning adventure.

“Not that I’m complaining, but tell me again why you decided to walk with us?”

“You’ve been prattling on all week about the chance of beautiful weather today. It inspired me. Besides, I need the exercise. This winter weight isn’t shedding on its own.”

“You didn’t gain any weight, Bex. You’re still disgustingly perfect.”

“Um-um, girl, look at this ass.” She arches her back and slaps her butt. “Swimsuit season is around the corner. Gotta tone up this tail. Sacrificing a little beauty sleep won’t hurt me.”

I giggle, shaking my head. “God help us if you get much more beautiful.”

“I have to keep up with my beauty queen bestie.”

“Hardly true.”

She nudges me, staying quiet as more joggers pass. The silence stretches on a bit too long, and when I glance over, she’s chewing on her bottom lip. “Something on your mind?”

“I saw your mom and Rylee at the mall after work yesterday.”

“I’m not surprised since it’s their favorite place to be.”

“It was stupid. I should have been paying better attention.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was obsessing over these sandals when they caught me off-guard.”

Bex obsesses over shoes of all seasons. No shock she was lost in thought. “Did they approach you?

“They did. Rylee was her usual bitchy self, making it known she had better things to do. It was Stacy who spoke to me.”

At her name, an ache stabs in my chest. “My mom talked to you?”

“She did, and it was weird.”

“I’m sure it was. You’re my best friend and haven’t seen them since all the drama went down.”

“It was more than that. It was almost spooky.”

“Spooky how?”

“Everything about her was off. I’ve never seen Stacy haggard. Early morning, late night, the beach, the gym… she’s always put together. Yesterday, her hair was dull and limp, her make-up was barely visible, her nails were chipped and clothes wrinkled. It’s obvious she’s lost weight but her skin was gaunt.”

I trip over my foot and reach out to steady myself. The mother I knew was a champion of self-care. She instilled it in us from a young age. It wasn’t always about spending money or having the best. It was about taking care of ourselves.

“Her Louis was scuffed,” Bex whispers as if the secret will be heard.

“Wow.” If the other wasn’t already a surprise, this takes it up a level. Stacy Richards loves her handbags. I never cared much about material things or labels. That was more Rylee’s thing. But I did inherit my love of designer handbags from my mom. My collection is small, most of them classics, but I adore each of them.

For Mom to go into public appearing ragged is one thing, but to carry a scuffed bag means she’s definitely not herself.

“There’s more. She wanted to know all about you.”

“Like what?”

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