Page 6 of Alpha Ruined
But Bree sighs as she hears the fridge opening and begrudgingly follows her mother.
Carol was right.
The lemonade isreallygood.
Bree’s nursing her glass on the reclining chair when her mother takes a seat near her on the couch. “If I had known you were coming, I would have made you dinner,” she frets, furrowing her brow. “Are you still a vegetarian?”
“Yup.”Just like last month, and the six years before that.
“So, if I cook salmon, you can eat that?”
“That’s a fish, Mom.”
“So yes?”
There’s a long moment of silence. “…yes,” Bree sighs, because at least her mother istrying.
“Ugh. I don’t like salmon, though.”
Bree closes her eyes and exhales slowly. “Then we don’t need to eat salmon. We can eat something else?—”
“I wish you liked steak.”
“Oh my god, Momplease?—”
“We could do salmonandsteak. How about that?”
“Yes, that’s fine. That’sfine.”
“Great. I’m sure Hank could fire up the grill.” Then her mother is back to smiling, pleased that she’s secured a dinner with her daughter.
A twinge of guilt gnaws at Bree. She shouldvisit her mother more; she’s less than an hour away. But then Carol will say something, or Bree will snap at her, and then a fight will ensue.
They go around in circles, and nothing gets resolved.
Which is why she’s trying to limit this visit to less than an hour.
“That sounds good,” Bree manages to say, running a finger over the rim of her glass. “But I actually wanted to let you know I’m going to be out of town, in case you needed something. It’s for work.”
“Oh. Is it for that newspaper?”
“Yeah.”
Carol frowns. “Are they still underpaying you? They better not be paying you minimum wage, there’s no way you can live off that?—”
“No, it’s fine.” She doesn’t bother to tell her mother that she’s had to dip into her portion of the life insurance along with the trust fund her father was kind enough to set up for her.
“Rent isreallyhigh right now, Bree; I saw it on the news. You could live back here with me for free and save up for your own place.”
Absolutely not.“Holden is about an hour away, so it makes more sense to stay there for work,” Bree says gently, careful not to make it sound like she would rather chew on barbed wire than live with her mother again.
“I don’t like you living alone. You don’t have anyone.”
Ah. There it is.
Bree swallows down her hurt and attempts to steer the conversation back to neutral territory. “I’m going to be gone for a week. I’m conducting an interview.”
“Where?”