Page 132 of A Little Jaded
“Nothing other than we’d swing by to chat this morning.”
“Chat,” I repeat.
“Not sure what else you want me to call it.”
He’s right. This isn’t a confession. It’s what? An update? On the culmination of shitty decisions I’ve tried running from to no avail?
Yeah,chatfits fine, I guess.
With a nod, I let it go and face the solid piece of oak, preparing myself for the inevitable.
Footsteps echo on the opposite side of the door before it swings open, and my mom tugs me into a hug.
My body stays stiff for all of two seconds. Then, I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes. “Hey, Mom.”
“I love you. So. Damn. Much.”
I sag into her even more. “I love you, too.”
She squeezes me again, then lets me go and turns to Everett. “I believe your introduction is long past due.”
“Hello, I’m Everett,” he offers. “Everett Taylor.”
“My husband mentioned it.” She tilts her head but doesn’t move away from the doorframe. Don’t get me wrong, my dad and brother are fierce, but my mom? She’s something else, entirely. The woman grew up with religious zealots for parents who kicked her out before she was even a legal adult. After that, she was basically a nomad until she met my dad and managed to tame the grumpy tattoo artist. The rest, as they say, is history. And even though it’s been relatively smooth sailing ever since, anyone who’s met my mom knows she’s not someone to trifle with. And right now, I’m seriously squirming from her scrutiny. Not of me, but Everett. I have afeeling she’s debating on whether or not he should be on her shit list after my long absence. If only she knew he was the one grounding me in this moment. Giving me the strength and courage to stand here and admit my mistakes to two of the people I look up to most.
Tattoos cover her arms and back, though they aren’t on display now. Instead, she’s wrapped in a thick, baby blue sweater, and her long blonde hair is tied into a messy bun on the top of her head. She would almost look welcoming if it wasn’t for her unwavering—and a bit unnerving—gaze. “You’re lucky I’ve been preoccupied with my newest grandbaby,” she adds.
“Congratulations,” Everett offers.
“Thank you.” She glances at me. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long for an introduction.”
“We’ve been…busy,” I lie.
“Busy, huh?” Her lips press into a thin line. “Listen, from what your dad said, Everett’s already been through the wringer, so I won’t push it. I trust your dad’s judgment, but I do want to make sure you’re okay and if there’s anything we can do to help with…whatever the hell’s going on. Unfortunately, because you’ve kept us in the dark, it’s kind of difficult to know what that is.”
I can see the hurt in her eyes. The undertone of disapproval. Not at whatever I need help with, but at my lack of candor. She has every right to disapprove of me keeping them in the dark, though. I know this. It doesn’t make the idea of ripping the Band-Aid off and telling them everything feel any easier, though.
“I know,” I murmur. “I know I’ve screwed up?—”
“Rainbow, we all screw up,” she interjects. “With my history, no one knows it better than I do. Now, your dad’s in the shed out back, working off his pent-up energy thanks to the video we never want to see again. I’m sure he saw thedoorbell notification, so I bet he’ll be here in a minute. But before we go any further, I need you to tell me whether or not your friend had anything to do with the video being distributed.”
I grab Everett’s hand and tug him closer to me. “He wasn’t the one who filmed us, let alone shared it. I promise.”
She hesitates, studying Everett again as if she’s a well-seasoned detective. “You trust him, Raine?”
I nod. “With everything.”
“Then I’ll try to do the same.” She turns to Everett again and offers him her hand. “Hello, Everett. Let’s try this one more time. I’m Maddie Anders, Raine’s mom. You can call me Mrs. Anders.”
Everett takes her hand and shakes it once. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anders.”
“You, too,” she replies. “Although I do wish it was under different circumstances.”
Everett’s mouth twitches. “Same.”
“Shall we?”
My mom steps aside, motions for us to come in, and closes the icy chill out with a quiet click of the front door. When my dad rounds the corner from the back of the house, I offer him a pathetic wave, and he picks up his pace.