Page 114 of Moms of Mayhem
Behind me, footsteps crunched over the snow-covered gravel. Mikko walked past, cool and quiet, like a shadow with purpose. He stopped just at the base of the steps and looked up toward the screen door.
“Shannon,” he yelled, and the curtains over the nearby window pulled apart, Shannon’s face behind the dirty glass. “Get in the truck.”
She stood frozen, gaze looking back and forth between her dad and us.
Ray spun toward her. “Don’t you move, girl. Don’t you dare?—”
“Get in the truck,” Mikko repeated, eyes never leaving hers.
Shannon stared at him for a second. Then she disappeared from sight, and the screen door pushed open again. With steady steps, she walked past Ray, past all of us. Head up. No looking back.
She climbed into the truck and shut the door behind her.
Ray turned back toward me, mouth twisted like he still had something to say, but I wasn’t interested anymore.
“You can finish that bottle or throw it through a window for all I care,” I said. “But next time you want to tear someone down, you better hope I’m not in earshot.”
I turned and walked off the porch without another word. None of us looked back. We got in the truck, and we drove.
33
The drive back to my mom’s house was silent, like everyone was trying to figure out what to say and deciding against it. Shannon leaned against the window in the front seat, hood still up, her legs pulled up on the cushion like she was trying to make herself smaller. Mikko stared straight ahead, arms crossed over his chest. Logan fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve like he was trying to unhear everything that had just gone down. I kept my eyes on the road, familiar turns blurring past.
After seeing the ruins of the Wilder Family Farm, I couldn’t help but appreciate mom’s house. The blue paint was peeling in spots, but it was cheerful. A wreath hung on the front door, and it looked like ahome.
I couldn’t help thinking about what it would’ve looked like if my dad had lived. If I’d grown up with the kind of love that broke instead of built. I didn’t have a perfect childhood, but Mason and Mom were as good as it got. We were a trio, as solid as they came, even before Dad passed away.
In comparison, Shannon’s life was just as broken as thehouse she lived in, and I hated that for her. I needed to help, but I knew her well enough to know she’d shut down anything she saw as charity.
The truck rolled to a stop in the drive. Mikko and Logan climbed out without a word, the doors shutting softly behind them.
I didn’t move. Not yet.
I turned a little in my seat to glance back. “Shannon.”
Her hood still covered most of her face, but I caught the flick of her eyes in my direction.
“How long has it been this bad?”
“None of your business.”
I nodded, but didn’t let her shove me away yet. “Come inside.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because Mom is standing at the window and can see you in the truck. She doesn’t get out as much anymore, and if you leave without saying hi, she might cry.”
Shannon didn’t smile, not really—but her mouth twitched like she wanted to. Her arms were still crossed tight over her chest.
“You don’t have to stay long,” I said. “But she’ll be delighted to see you, and furious if you don’t at least wave. You know how much she’s always loved you.”
It was true—Lori had doted on Shannon since we were kids, back when our families used to spend holidays together, back before the sharp edges of our dads’ drinking started slicing everything up. Lori never had a daughter, but if she could have picked one, it would’ve been Shannon. I wasn’t sure what their relationship had been like after I left, but I was positive my mom would welcome her with open arms.
Shannon hesitated, like she was doing the mental math of risk versus reward.
Eventually, she let out a quiet sigh and opened the door.
“Five minutes,” she muttered.
