Page 45 of Burning Daylight
My hands fly from her body like they’re on fire. I mutter a frustrated, “Fuck.”
Her eyes widen, maybe from hearing my nickname—although Amanda said it in front of her before—or maybebecause she hears another woman’s voice at the door and is making assumptions.
She shakes her head and pushes away from me, shooting to a stand, pulling her clothes back in place, and making her way to the door. I chase after her, because the only thing worse than her leaving would be her running into my mother face to face.
I grip her arm and move her softly to the side when we reach the door, opening it a crack so my frame fills the width and my mom can’t see in fully. I stare down at her with a blank look.
Mom isn’t actively crying, but there are black mascara tears drying on her cheeks, and she’s wringing her hands together, a panicked look on her face.
“Ma,” I say, anxiety prickling my skin. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She sniffs and then steps forward like she’s trying to come inside.
I keep the door closed tightly, and it forces her back.
“You’re not gonna let me in?” she questions.
“Now’s not a good time.”
It’s possible Ma would know who the woman standing next to me is.
I don’t know why it bothers me that my mom could be the reason I learn her name—or worse, how she could learn the truth about mine.
Ma scoffs, water bubbling up and lining her lower lids, and guilt breaks apart my resistance.
It’s not like this thing between me and my mystery girl is going anywhere past today anyway, so what does it really matter in the end? I don’t know her, and even though I have a complicated relationship with my mother, she’s still my mom. I still love her and don’t want to see her sad.
Sighing, I’m about to open the door a little wider to let her in and get this inevitable reveal over with. Suddenly, Ma shifts, her fingers scratching over her long sleeves, and I look at her closer.
Pinprick pupils.
Not just watery eyes, but a glossy gaze, and every couple of seconds, her head lolls the tiniest amount, like she’s trying to appear more alert but keeps fading.
Sadness rips through my middle.
She’s high.Because of course she is.
“I’m busy,” I tell her, my walls firming back up.
She sniffs again and glances down the street. “You used to never be too busy for me.”
Sighing again, I run a hand over my face. “Ma…”
“I’m here to pick up the money for Brooke’s meds. You have time forthat?”
My brows shoot to my hairline.The fuck she is.
“What are you doing anyway, are you—?” She stops suddenly, her eyes narrowing, a spark of something sharp cutting through her foggy gaze. “Do you have someone in there?”
She peers around the door like she’s trying to get a good angle to see.
I block her view, even though my little rose shifts closer, like she wants to see my mother, too.
“Just go wait for me down the street at the coffee shop, okay? Where you weresupposedto meet me earlier.”
I give her a pointed look.
Little Rose is so close to my side now that the heat of her spreads across my shoulder blades.
