“I’ll be fine, Mom. This is easier.”
She doesn’t add she doesn’t want to prolong goodbye any longer than is absolutely necessary, but she doesn’t need to; I feel the same. Funny how neither of us have been particularly emotional at previous goodbyes over the last few years, but seem to be this time around. Not all that surprising though, given the deep heart-to-hearts we’ve shared this past week. Both of us are pretty raw, but probably more in tune than ever before.
Honesty has scraped some wounds raw, but hopefully now they can heal without ugly scars.
“Love you, Mom” Paige says, once her bags are waiting on the curb.
I open my arms to her and hold her securely to me, taking in a deep breath of her scent. I wish I could hold her safe like this forever, but I know the best thing I can do for her is let her go. Let her make her own mistakes and find her own solutions. Parenting never gets easier.
“Love you too, sweetheart. So much.” Reluctantly I let go and force my tears back. “Call me when you get there.”
“I will.”
She smiles through tears, grabs her bags, and heads for the entrance. I stand there until she disappears inside when I’m startled by a car horn. I quickly slide behind the wheel, making room for the waiting car behind me.
I manage to hold it together until I pull up outside Mom’s house. I know she’s made arrangements for her mail to be picked up, and a friend has her plants to look after, but I want to make sure everything is in order. Especially since it’s entirely possible Paige will be staying here for a while.
It’s appropriately raining when I get out of my vehicle, cold sleet hitting me in the face, mingling with my tears.
The house smells like Mom when I step in the door and I have a sudden urge to hear her voice. Hanging up my coat and kicking off my shoes, so I don’t track dirt onto her pristine carpet, I head for the kitchen, grabbing the towel hanging on the stove handle to wipe my face. Then I sit down at the island and pull out my phone.
“Is she gone?”
My mom, so intuitive when it comes to her girls.
“Yes.” My voice sounds wobbly even to my own ears.
“Oh, honey. Where are you now? You’re not driving are you?”
“I’m at your place. Just wanted to check on things here.”
“Why? Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine, Mom.”
For the next few minutes I recount the conversation with Paige about her staying here for a bit. Mom is instantly on board, which makes me feel a little better. Whatever Paige ends up deciding to do, she’s covered with all her options.
As always, talking with my mom is like a warm blanket around my shoulders, and by the time we end the call, I feel better equipped to face the drive back. I do a quick check of the house—everything appears in order—and lock back up.
During my drive home I start thinking about Gray. I missed him last night. He messaged me at some point, letting me know he wouldn’t be coming by so Paige and I had the night to ourselves—which was sweet—but I missed him anyway.
We hadn’t made any plans and part of me was nervous about facing him alone. I’m not sure what—if anything—Paige shared with him about her father, but I know I at least owe him some explanation. I had tightly guarded the truth about my marriage to protect my family. However, discovering my daughter already knew more than I thought, there’s no real point in keeping it a secret. At least not from Gray.
My mother is another matter. I’m not sure how much to tell her, but I have a couple of months to figure that out.
Gray is my first concern, and when I hit town limits—instead of taking the turn home—I keep driving and pull into the Dirty Dog parking lot.
Gray
Un-fucking-believable.
With the garage closed and Robin out of town, I spent the day in my apartment reading. Sounds from the Dirty Dog downstairs started filtering through and I could smell the grill up here. Getting hungry and more than a little claustrophobic, I made my way down the outside stairs, thinking maybe I could grab a burger and play a game of pool if any of the old guys are around.
I was about to round my truck parked at the bottom of the stairs, when I noticed it was sitting lower than it should be. All four of my goddamn tires sliced.
“Who’d you piss off?”
I lift my head to see Derek Francisi walking up. I called the police right away. No way this was an accident, as the clean slices in each of my tires attest to and Francisi clearly agrees with.
“I didn’t see and it’s possible there are some people out there still holding a grudge, but if I had to venture a guess…”
He bends down to examine my rear tire and whistles between his teeth.
“By all means, do.”
I share my suspicions and the reasons behind it. He does little more than raise his eyebrows when I mention Becca’s name.
“Interesting. That’s a name that has come up in recent days.”
Now it’s my turn to look surprised.
“How so?”
“Mike Hancock was the first one to mention her when I finally had a chance to question him a few days ago. Claims the woman asked him to pick something up she’d left in the office at the diner. Of course, he also claimed he’d just been defending himself when, according to him, he was attacked by your lady friend.” He chuckles when I mutter a heartfelt profanity and a promise of substantial physical harm. “Anyway, things came up and I haven’t had a chance to speak to Ms. Simms to get her side of things. I did happen to talk to Kim Hudson at the diner yesterday, who mentioned
