“Yeah right, Mom.” Electricity lit up my insides until I practically turned incandescent. I couldn’t take much more of this. “You think I would forgive you if you forced me to move home? Back to a school with my ex who spreads lies about me and stalks me five states away. How could that possibly help?”
“Honey, that was months ago. I’m sure Jake feels really bad and wants to make things right. Everyone else at that school has probably forgotten all about it by now.” Her tone turned syrupy-sweet, as if she had any clue what she was talking about.
And that really burned me up. I dug my hands into my jean pockets. “You don’t understand what it was like, Mom. He drove all the way to Montrose, then followed me into the city. If my friends hadn’t been there, who knows what would’ve happened?”
“He only approached you when your friends were around. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think it was.” The coolness in her voice killed me, so nonchalant, so unaffected by what I’d just told her.
“How can you defend Jake?” The anger-bomb exploded inside me, bits of fury hurtling everywhere until I practically screamed at her. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You just don’t get it.” I wadded up my napkin, chucking it at my plate. With that, I made a mad dash down the hall.
“Lucy, come back.” Her voice faded the closer I got to my room.
“I’m not hungry.” I slammed the door behind me. So much for trying to make nice. I punched my fists into the pillow, willing myself not to cry. She wasn’t worth it.
Maybe I could try to show a little forgiveness. My dad had managed it somehow, and if James were here, he’d probably tell me to get over myself. She was still my mother, after all.
Just then my phone buzzed. “Thank God.”
Shanda’s number appeared. Another person who’d tell me to get over myself. Funny how she texted at the exact moment I needed her. Though I highly doubted she’d be as hip to the forgiveness part.
Chapter 25
The soothing aroma of turkey drifted to my nostrils, curling tendrils of comfort around my foggy morning brain. Bright light burned from my bedroom window, dimming as I rubbed my eyes. Thanksgiving morning smells were still the same, warm and heavenly as always.
Maybe I’d been too harsh with Mom last night. Even Shanda had said as much. Maybe she really had missed me, was only watching out for me. Blah, blah, blah. I’d just have to make it clear that I had to stay in New York, and Jake was the reason—not her. That should do it, right? At any rate, she’d have to notice a new measure of maturity, and maybe even thank Montrose for it.
I snuggled my fleece pullover on top of my Montrose t-shirt. If only it were Bryan’s bomber jacket, I’d be in heaven. After I wrestled the tangles out of my hair, I barefooted it to the kitchen. Mom hovered over the stove in Grandma’s frayed apron, looking more domestic than ever.
I wrapped my arms around her waist. “Morning, Mom. Sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have been so rude. You forgive me?”
“Of course, honey.” She patted my hands and handed me the wooden spoon. “Why don’t you stir the gravy for a while? Mom could use a break.”
“You got it.” I took the spoon from her and dunked it in the bubbling liquid. Bits of unidentified meat floated up as I stirred. “This doesn’t exactly resemble gravy.”
She smoothed her palm down my hair. “Well not right now. I’ve only just started it. It’ll be perfect in a few hours.”
“If you say so.” I craned my neck to face her. “About Montrose, it’s not that I prefer being there over being home. It’s just a place that’s free of Jake. And Becca. A place where I can start over.”
Her fingers winged across the bumps of my scar. “I think we can all agree, you deserve a fresh start.”
“That’s for sure. Then you understand?” A crick formed in my neck, but I had to see her face, read her expression.
“Completely.” Her eyes smiled at me, a surge of warmth swarming into my body. “Let’s not worry about this now. Let’s have a nice Thanksgiving dinner.”
“That sounds great.” I smiled back at her, for real this time.
For the next few hours we worked on all the Thanksgiving staples; boiling potatoes, mixing pie dough, sieving gravy. My favorite was throwing together the green bean casserole, mostly because Mom hated the less-than-fancy dish and everyone else loved it.
Before I knew it, mid-afternoon rolled around. I wiped my hands on the frilly apron Mom let me wear. “Maybe I should go freshen up.”
“Good idea.” She poured the pot of potatoes into the colander. “Why don’t you tell Paige to come set the table?”
“No problem.” I untied the apron and hung it on the hook next to the hallway.
Suddenly the front door whooshed open, sunlight streaming its rays around a tall silhouette. For a second it almost looked like James, or could it be Bryan? My heart stuttered at each possibility.
Instead, Jake’s frame filled the doorway, that obnoxiously cocky smile spread across his face. My heart sank as I steeled my fingers into fists at my side.
“Who invited you?” It could only be one person. I turned to my mother, the traitor. “How could you? After I told you how I felt?”
“Honey.” She rushed to my side, clasping my hand in hers. “It’s not what you think. He just wants to apologize for what he did. As your mother, I think you deserve that as part of your fresh start. It’ll help you move forward.”
Fire practically flared from my nostrils. “If you want to listen to his pathetic excuse for an apology, do it on your own time. As for me, I never want to see that jerk again.” I sprinted down
