Page 19 of Sing Me Home
“You’re being too generous,” Mom retorted, sounding disgusted with herself. “She was about to leave for college. Someone else would've told her if she hadn’t read the book. I was being a coward, and now my kid is so traumatized she can’t even look me in the eye.”
“Tal,” Dad said in a hush. “It would’ve traumatized her either way.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“No,” Mom said, determined to take responsibility. “This ismyfault.”
My hands pressed against my cheeks.I should get up and go talk to them. But any answer as to why I couldn’t keep eye contact would only wound her more.
“Did she say where she’s been?” Dad asked. “Or why she wouldn’t answer any of our calls?”
Cash’s knee leaned into mine. I looked over and he stared at me, brows lifted. He wanted answers too. I glanced away, resting my head against the wall.
“No,” Aunt Peyton said. “But listen, we’re going to get to the bottom of it. And she’s agreed to go to therapy while she’s here. She just needs some time.”
“Is she planning to leave again?” Dad asked in a hush.
Cash poked me in the side, his worried expression asking the same. I shook my head.
“We don’t know,” Uncle Ford said and I sat up a little taller. I hadn’t known he was out there. “We hope not.”
“And we’re going to encourage her to move home with you just as soon as she’s ready,” Aunt Peyton added. “But for now, you can sleep at night. Your girl is back on the ranch. She’s okay.”
“How much was the plane ticket?” Dad asked. “We’ll reimburse you.”
“C’mon,” Ford said, annoyed. “We’re not doing that. And you’re not paying us rent for her either. Because I know that was your next lamebrain idea.”
Cash and I snickered.
“It had to cost you an arm and a leg to buy a same-day ticket,” Dad growled.
“Ah, snap,” Cash hissed. “It’s a Dupree brother’s pissing contest.”
“Knock it off, you two,” Aunt Peyton said.
Mom laughed, though it sounded wet. “Let us pay forsomething.”
Ford started to argue.
Peyton cut him off. “She needs clothes. She got off the plane in a pair of sweats that were for someone my height and that was it. No luggage. Not even a carry-on. Just a small backpack and the guitar that Cash gave her when she turned sixteen.” That guitar had saved me in more ways than one.
Cash bumped my shoulder with his and I gave him a small smile.
“What about that outfit she had on last night?” Mom asked.
“I loaned her the shirt. The jeans and boots were hers from high school. Sorry,” Aunt Peyton said with a tinge of shame. “I snuck in your house after y’all left to go out to dinner before the concert.”
“It’s fine,” Mom said and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Payback for all the times I’ve snuck into your house to eat your fruit when you’re not home.”
“I don’t have time to take her to the mall today,” Aunt Peyton said. “But we’re going to run down toWalmartlater.” She said Walmart like she was spitting out a bug that had just flown into her mouth. For a woman who used to pride herself on finding cute outfits at the thrift store, she’d become quite accustomed to wearing luxury brands since marrying Uncle Ford. “Would you like to pay for that?”
“Absolutely,” Mom said.
“Where’s her car?” Dad asked.
I shifted away from Cash, unable to hide my shame.
“Dead,” Aunt Peyton said. “Officer Riley said she was sleeping in a rusted-out 1997 Honda Civic.”
