Page 60 of Checking Mr. Wrong
She studies me, her eyes narrowing. “Are you busy or avoiding something?”
I clear my throat and shift in my seat at the kitchen table, the old wood creaking beneath me. “I think I’ve been offered a job.”
My mother perks up like a bird spotting a worm. “That’s good, right?”
“Yes,” I say cautiously, dragging the word out like a long piece of taffy. “I’d be back on TV, reporting again.”
“That’s great, it’s what you wanted. I mean, even though the last time didn’t turn out so well.” Her smile tightens into something almost unreadable, a blend of pride and expectation. “So, what’s the hesitation?”
I glance down at my hands, fingers knotting together. “Did you need to add that part in?”
“What part?” Her tone is sharp, not unkind, but edged like a freshly honed knife.
“How it didn’t go well for me last time. I am all too aware that my actions embarrassed you that day.” I exhale slowly. “But as far as this job? I don’t know if it’s the right thing for me. I feel lost, Mom. Like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
“Lost?” Her eyebrows pull together. “Mabel, you’re a grownwoman. By now, you should have some sense of what you want out of life. When I was your age, I knew exactly what I wanted. I had direction.”
I feel my chest tighten, heat creeping up my neck. “Yeah, well, I’m not you,” I snap, the words firing out before I can stop them. “I’m me. And maybe that’s the problem. You keep expecting me to be like you.”
Mom straightens, her lips thinning. “I don’t expect you to be like me. But I do expect you to take some responsibility and figure things out. You’re not a teenager anymore.”
“Sometimes it feels like you still think I’m fifteen.” I stand up, pacing the length of the kitchen. “Sometimes I think you’ve spent more time with the rest of Maple Falls than with your own daughter. Every committee, every bake sale, every town hall meeting...how much time have you actually clocked with me, us, one-on-one?”
She’s stunned silent, but it doesn’t last long. “That’s not fair. I worked hard to make this community better for you and everyone who lives here. Look at the tragedy that’s happening now with this MacDonald heir and all of its chaos. Maybe if you’d gotten involved in some of those things, you wouldn’t feel so ‘lost’ now.”
“First of all, how do you know I’m not helping? Because I’m not advertising it by joining every social group I can, like you?” I stop pacing and turn to face her. “Secondly, what you’re saying is that I should have spent more time shadowing you and less time trying to be my own person?”
Her mouth opens, then closes, and for a second, she looks unsure. But then her resolve hardens. “That’s not what I meant. But maybe if you had a little more structure...”
“Structure?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Do you hear yourself? You talk about structure like it’s a cure-all. Newsflash, Mom: not everyone’s life fits neatly into little boxes.”
She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “This is going nowhere.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” I slump back into my chair, putting my head in my hands. The kitchen is too quiet, the hum of the fridge is suddenly louder than ever. “This is all too much, Mom. It’s more than I can handle.”
Her gaze softens slightly, but her next words cut just the same. “Then maybe it’s time you made a decision. You can’t keep floating through life like this, Mabel. At some point, you have to pick a direction and stick to it.”
I look up at her, eyes stinging. “This isn’t just about me being lost or the job. It’s also about everything we’ve never said to each other.” I point to her, then back to myself. “Us. Me and you.”
“Oh.” Mom’s face flickers with something unreadable before she glances at her watch. “Uh-oh, sweetie. I’m sorry, but I need to leave. There’s a town hall meeting that starts in ten minutes.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious? We’re finally talking, and you’re leaving?”
“I said I’m sorry, Mabel, but this is important.” She stands, smoothing out her skirt. “We can continue this later.”
I stare at her, my chest tight with frustration and hurt. “Sure. Later. Because that’s always worked so well before.”
Without another word, she grabs her bag and walks out, leaving me alone in the echoing silence of the kitchen.
CHAPTER 21
ASHER
The buzzing streetlightsoverhead do nothing to drown out the hum in my brain. The rhythm of the world around me feels off. Even the Chronic Warrior’s Support Group meeting tonight didn’t quiet the chaos as much as I’d hoped it would. I’m walking home, but each step feels heavy—like my sneakers are glued to the sidewalk and I’m dragging my way through molasses.
All week, the knot in my stomach has been tightening, thanks to the bombshell Mabel dropped the other day. I didn’t even know it was possible to have this many feelings all at once. I mean, I’ve faced plenty on and off the ice, but this? The obsessive spiral is something else. It’s the kind of week that makes me grateful for the group—a reminder that I’m not the only one who deals with invisible battles. But even now, fresh out of the meeting, my head’s spinning.
Maybe it’s not about fixing it tonight. Maybe it’s about distracting myself. And nothing says distraction like ice cream.
