Page 18 of Redemption
I’m starting gossip, but what else is new? I’ve learned to accept it and move on.
Besides, the safety of my car seems less daunting than the fire-breathing dragon named Hayes that’s planted himself at a table beside the entrance.
He’s not alone, either.
A pretty blonde sits across from him, and each time he smiles at her, my stomach twists from the absolute gag-worthy sweetness of it all. He looks smitten. From the way she can’t take her eyes off him, I think she is too.
I’ve been torturing myself watching the two of them. At this point, I probably qualify as a stalker, but I’ve never seen Hayes in love before. I thought I had, but what we had wasn’t love. It was—I don’t know what it was.
Either way, seeing him with her now has piqued my interest.
He looks relaxed, and that man is never relaxed. I’m happy for him.
Well—I want to be happy for him, but it feels like a betrayal. I’ve counted on him being as miserable as I have been. It never occurred to me that he was busy finding peace while I struggled to survive the weight of the guilt these past six years. I should want to see him happy, but I can’t make myself. Maybe that makes me toxic, but neither of us should get to escape what we did.
It was too big.
A knock at my window startles me, and I jump, knocking my elbow against the side of the door. A hiss escapes past my teeth as I rub the spot I hit.
When I turn to look at whoever knocked, I’m thankful for the protection of tinted windows because my mom stands there in all her glory. She might be able to tell that I’m in here, but she can’t see me roll my eyes as she dramatically checks her watch as if I’m wasting her time.
I didn’t even know she would be here because I would have run the other way if I did. I came here to get away from her. One week home, and the house is stifling.
Pressing the power switch button for my window, I crack it just enough to hear her.
She sighs, her signature display of disappointment. “Mallorie Jade, what are you doing sitting in your car? It’s hot as Hades out here.
“Oh, I was just enjoying the view,” I grit out.
She must be immune to my sarcasm because she doesn’t even blink an eye.
“Well, come along. I have things to do,” she says, digging through her purse and ignoring that I still haven’t rolled my window all the way down.
“Um—well, don’t let me stop you. I’m just going to head home.”
She lifts her head, catching my eye through the crack. “Nonsense. You’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes. Surely you want coffee at this point, or did you just come here to stir the gossip because you are certainly achieving that.”
She says all this through her polite smile, looking around and waving at a couple walking by.
Then it hits me that someone must have called and told her I was here, sitting outside the coffee shop and watching Hayes—bunch of tattletales.
“Yes, Mom. We both know Ilivefor gossip.”
Mom fiddles with her keys, and my eyes focus on the movement through the window. It’s so unlike her it’s startling. She is never anything less than pristine. That small motion is nothing compared to what she says next.
“Would you please have coffee with me, MJ? I want to discuss something with you.”
There’s no demand or coercion in her tone. She’s sincere, and the fact that she used Hayes’s nickname for me has me nearly having a stroke right here in my car on Main Street—talk about good gossip.
Staring at her, I sit there dumbfounded, gaping like a fish out of water. I can’t remember one time she has ever asked me to do something. It’s always been a demand.
For a while, when I was young, I never questioned it—until one day, I did. It’s been a war between us since then. She could never accept that I needed to be my own person, and I couldn’t force myself into the box she tried to shove me in.
But this—I can’t deny her when she’s actually asking, even if it means I have to fight a few dragons.
I nod and grab my keys before stepping out of the car. She takes a step back to give me room, and before I’m ready, we are walking side by side into the lair—I mean coffee shop.
The bell jingles over the door when we push it open, drawing the eyes of every patron in the shop. My mom is taller than I am, so I try to use her as a human shield, but it’s useless. She steps to the side and throws me a questioning look before sacrificing me.
