“East?”
I blinked and found Mom watching me, her fake happiness beginning to fade into something much more real. Concern. Worry. Fear.
This was the version of her that broke my heart all those years ago. And it was still doing it right now.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself against my own guilt. “Just making sure I know the plan.”
“Of course.” A forced smile. One I remembered well.
God, had it always been this strained?
No, it had been worse.
Denial made for a stiff rope between me and my mother. I’d prayed for years for that rope to snap. For her to wake up. Get out. But getting out was my thing. Staying was hers.
“How are things in Breckenridge?” she asked.
“Good.”
“And your apartment? Did your landlord give you any trouble about being away?”
“No trouble.”
“Your sponsors—”
“They understand.”
Silence fell.
“You’re more than welcome to stay with us,” she said for the hundredth time.
“I’ve already got a room booked in town.”
Disappointment flickered across her tired features. I took another swig of beer.
“Right. Well, I can pick you up and drive you in the morning. So you don’t have to figure it all out right away.”
“I’ve got my truck, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” She turned away to stir the chili.
My stomach growled loud enough for her human ears to hear it.
“I was going to wait for your father, but it’s ready,” she offered reluctantly.
My words held no such hesitation. “Let’s eat.”
2
Cat
I flung the shower curtain aside, shivering, and yanked the towel off the rack. My chattering teeth made it hard to mutter the curses running through my mind, but I was a pro. “. . . Bullshit water tank. I pay enough to damn well deserve a God damn hot shower—”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
I shrieked and almost lost the towel.
“Rudy, what the hell did I tell you about sneaking up on me?” I demanded.
“I didn’t sneak. The door’s wide open, and I’m standing in the mother-loving hallway in plain sight.”
Where Rudy was hesitant to spew profanity, I made up for it in spades.
“I’m too damn cold to see that far.”
He gaped at me. “Is that the explanation you want to go with here? That your body temperature has negatively impacted your eyesight?”
“Do you really want to argue with a woman with frigid nipples?” I shot back.
I watched as Rudy’s gaze dipped to my towel-covered chest. As expected, there wasn’t a single flicker of interest beyond mild curiosity—and maybe an attempt to rile me further.
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Prove it.”
“Perv.” I shoved past him to my bedroom.
He followed, as expected, because Rudy wasn’t a quitter. Not even when it came to pointless conversations. Especially then.
“Look, I told you I called the landlord about the water heater. What else do you want from me?”
I whirled to face him, one hand on my doorknob. “For starters, privacy.”
Then, I shut the door in his face.
“Real classy, Cat.”
Guilt tugged at me but only for a minute. Rudy was my best friend, but he was a terrible roommate. Before we’d lived together, his laid back attitude had been a nice complement to my high-strung tendencies. But now, it meant taking six months to call in a repair or letting the dishes pile for days. Or until I did them. Still, he was always ready to lend an ear or a shoulder—of which I’d needed both lately.
If we bickered more often recently, it was only because he let me take out my frustrations on him.
And his heart was always in the right place.
“Don’t wear the pink sweater with the blue pants,” he called through the door.
I looked down, my mouth open and ready with an argument. When I realized I was putting on exactly that combo, I scowled and peeled the pants off again.
“I’m not,” I yelled back.
Rudy snickered and then retreated up the hall.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged in black pants and a green sweater.
Rudy looked up from the paper and arched a brow at my outfit.
I stuck my tongue out at him, which only earned me the other brow.
“It’s so strange that you don’t have a boyfriend, considering how mature you are,” he said.
“I don’t have a boyfriend because you’ve already slept with all the decent men in town,” I shot back.
“And some of the indecent ones, too.” He winked.
I shook my head and went straight for the coffee.
We read our sections of the paper in silence. Fashion for Rudy; Health and Wellness for me. The tiny town of Midnight Falls was a holdout when it came to things like online news. They still delivered a physical newspaper every morning, and I kind of liked that. Reading it always reminded me of my parents. In fact, there wasn’t much about my daily routine that didn’t trigger some memory of them. Especially now that I’d taken over the business.
Noting the time, I hopped up. After another coffee refill, I grabbed my lunch of leftovers from the fridge and slid it into my dad’s old leather messenger bag. After nearly a year, I could wear it without tearing up.
Travis had said it smelled funny, which still grated on me. Then again, there wasn’t much about Travis that didn’t piss me off these days.
“You okay?” Rudy’s voice pulled me out of a deep reverie.
“Huh? Yeah. Fine.”
He set his paper aside, fully focused on me now. “Uh-uh. You know what fine stands for, don’t you?”
“Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional,” we said in unison and then broke into matching smiles as we quoted our favorite movie line.
“Italian Job re-watch tonight?” he asked as I stood up and grabbed my purse and a travel mug. “I’ll get takeout.”
“Okay, but only if you promise not to shrink me.”
“I’m not shrinking you.”
“Fine. You’re New-Age-energifying me.”
“That’s not even a real thing.”
“Exactly. So stop doing it.”
“I’ll stop when you stop.” Before I could respond, he added, “You can be ‘not fine.’ No, you should be ‘not fine.’ What Travis did—”
“Rudy, do not tell me how I feel,” I
