“Missing Mack’s ass, Jase?” Danny joked.
Jase turned to him with a frown. “Why the fuck couldn’t you intern all summer? Sick of the fucking sight of you.”
Danny shot a wink and blew a kiss, rising to his feet. “Gotta take a leak.”
Pushing up, I stood. “And I gotta take off.”
“Hey.” Jase stopped me as I rounded the table, eyes narrowed as he looked up at me. “Did you talk to my uncle?”
“Yeah, he’s been a huge help.” I nodded and slid my hands into the pockets of my grey sweatpants. Jase was one of the few people who knew about my college plans. His uncle worked for a big industrial architecture company, and he’d given me his details to hit him up for some advice a few months back when I’d decided what I wanted to do.
“Gonna be an architect when you grow up, huh? You can build me a massive fucking house as a thank you for the intel.” Jase grinned, and I smirked down at him. “Seriously, though, good for you, man.” He reached up and clasped my hand in a quick shake. “Danny’s folks are away for two weeks. One last blowout before we grow the fuck up and start taking life seriously?”
I was quiet for a few seconds, then tilted my head. “Was she the one?”
It was a total fucking non-dude question, and by rights, I should have been checking between my legs for the vagina I’d obviously grown, but for some reason, I really wanted to hear his answer.
There was no confusion in his eyes or delay in his response. He knew exactly what and who I was talking about. He dipped his head in a curt nod, then muttered, “But there’ll be others.” Then he glanced down to avoid my gaze. Even he didn’t believe it.
Patting his back, I murmured, “Yeah,” then turned and strolled through the door.
The truck beeped, lights flashing twice when I paced toward it and pressed the remote unlock. Wrapping my hand around the handle, I swung the door open then paused. My brows drew down when I saw Lissa’s mom walking up and down the sidewalk, retracing her steps with jerky, agitated movements, her blue eyes wide in her pale face. Smoothing the door closed, I approached her.
“Mrs. Bedford?”
She swivelled on the spot, the blunt edges of her shoulder length hair fanning out around her and the grocery bag clutched tight in her right-hand bumping against her calf.
Her gaze met mine with no words of greeting, no spark of recognition. She stared at me with a blank expression on her face.
“Everything ok?” I ventured, eyes volleying between both of hers.
Her lips opened, but a good thirty seconds passed before she answered with a quick shake of her head. “I can’t remember where I parked the car.”
My head immediately wheeled on my shoulders. I didn’t even know what the fuck Lissa’s mom drove, but I looked for it, anyway. “Uh, what car do you drive these days, Mrs. B?”
I turned back, and she frowned, her eyes zipping around as she rubbed two fingers over her forehead.
“I can’t remember the model. I’m not good with cars, um…” she trailed off, a question in her voice, her wide eyes searching my face as if she was waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
I said nothing for a second, confused, then offered, “Leon.”
She couldn’t remember my name? We’d lived in the same town for the last nineteen years. I’d gone to school with Lissa since kindergarten. Endured never ending parties and fucking playdates under this woman’s supervision. I hadn’t fucking changed that much.
“Leon. Yes,” she mumbled, but a deep crease lined her brow.
“Mel! God, I didn’t know where you went. You scared me!” A woman I immediately recognized as Lissa’s Aunt Bree emerged onto the sidewalk from the grocery store, eyes pinched tight with concern.
Her gaze landed on my chest, climbing until she met my eyes, and recognition hit.
“Leon. You’ve never changed.” She smiled, then her cheeks pinkened. “Well, you got bigger, obviously.”
I smiled back at her. “Nice to see you, Bree.”
“Wow.” Her brows lifted. “Voice got deeper, too, huh?”
She blinked a few times before clearing her throat and turning to Lissa’s mom. “You get everything you need?” Her eyes roved like lasers all over her sister’s face.
Mrs. B pushed her hair off her face and nodded. “Yep. All done.”
“Great.” Bree smiled again, but it looked strained, tight. Like she had to force it. “Car’s this way.”
“Of course, it is.”
Bree turned with a small wave, flicking her dark blonde braid over her shoulder. “Nice seeing you, Leon.”
My hand lifted, but I couldn’t muster up a genuine smile as I watched the pair stride down the sidewalk and get into the silver car parked four down from mine. The car Lissa’s mom had walked past three times.
Bree climbed in the driver’s side and pulled away from the curb. Mrs B. hadn’t so much as thrown me a parting glance.
Weird as fuck.
TWENTY-TWO
LISS
“Yes, Bella,” I squeezed the words out between clenched teeth as I stared down at the cupcake trays on the kitchen counter. “I followed the damn recipe.”
“They look like a cat ate them, then spat them back out. These are even worse than the last ones.”
I burnt the last ones.
My sister lifted a cupcake from the tray and held it up to her scrunched face, eyeing it like it had personally offended her.
Planting an elbow down on the countertop, I bent forward and dropped my forehead into my palm. Fucking cupcakes. Who the fuck knew they were so hard to bake?
“What are those?” Bree murmured, breezing into the kitchen in dark wash skinny jeans and a thin, taupe-colored sweater, her dark-blonde hair braided down the middle of her back.
I rubbed my eyes for the twentieth time and reached for the coffee. “Cupcakes. For Bella’s dance class’s bake sale tomorrow.” I raised a brow as I turned to her. “Can’t you tell?”
Bree grimaced, glancing up. “Uh, yeah. Maybe your mom could help?”
“No,” I said quickly, turning away. “She’s busy packing. I said I would.”
Since coming home from college, there’d been days when I’d been able to fool myself into believing my mother was fine. She’d act normal for long periods, but then she’d forget something simple—some routine task or piece of information, or she’d repeat herself without knowing it—and I’d struggle to breathe as I watched her grasping for memories she no longer possessed, watched her try to grapple with the reality of her situation. And then when she couldn’t do anything but succumb to the tragic hopelessness of it all, and she lashed out in frustration, it was so shockingly out of character; it rocked me to my core.
Melinda Bedford was as placid as they came, meek, mild-mannered, polite, but mood swings and changes in behaviour were another part of her condition, and every time I witnessed it, I had to fight the urge to run. Because the mother I’d always known disappeared before my eyes, and the person left behind was a projection, a vision of the future.
A future I still wasn’t ready to face. And might never be.
Most days, I tried to carry on as if everything was normal. Whenever Bree or my mom tried to talk to me about it, I shut them down. I was here, and I’d stay here, and that had to be enough. For now. I didn’t want to climb out from beneath the avalanche of denial I’d buried myself under.
I handled things the way I knew how, by pushing them down. I’d come home to be strong for them… not to fall apart. They didn’t need that.
I’d noticed my mom struggled more with some things than others, recipes being one of them. So, when I’d picked Bella up from dance class last weekend and saw the flyer clutched in her grip, flapping in the breeze, I’d immediately offered to bake the cakes.
I knew it wasn’t a viable solution, but anything I thought my mom might forget, I tried to pre-empt it. I wanted to clear it all, present her with a hurdle free walkway for as long as possible so neither
of us had to confront her condition.
But there was so much I couldn’t control; so many little fires I couldn’t put out.
I couldn’t predict she’d forget where we kept the Tylenol. I couldn’t stop her from putting her phone away in some random place and flipping out, turning the house upside down in her quest to find it. I couldn’t keep words she’d used her whole life from falling out of her head, leaving her unable to finish a sentence and looking so fucking lost and helpless.
I couldn’t stop it. Any of it. We’d been plunged into a war armed with no weapons. This wasn’t something we could fight. There was no hope. All we could do was sit back and watch her mind deteriorate further.
My heart rate escalated—the sound a bruising thump against the inside of my skull—and a familiar void opened up inside my chest.
Placing the mug down on the counter, I planted my palms beside it and took a deep breath in. This was why I didn’t think about it, why I focused on today, not tomorrow.
I’d think about tomorrow when it became impossible to avoid. Tomorrow was still too hard.
Was my coping mechanism healthy? I had no fucking clue, but the pain in my chest eased and my head calmed.
Bree turned to Bella. “Go finish packing, Bells. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, right after the bake sale, ‘kay?”
Bella grumbled, but slunk from the stool and stomped out through the doorway.
“You okay?” Bree asked beside me, voice quiet.
“Fine.”
Her eyes pinged between mine for a beat, narrowing, but I’d already hidden whatever she was looking for. She blinked with a slight dip of her head, her eyes darting over my shoulder to the counter. “Did you forget to put something in them?”
Reminded about the crappy cupcakes, I shot her a glare and snatched up the tray. Opening the trash can, I dumped the cat puke cakes in, then stormed past her to the fridge.
Bree pressed her lips tight together to suppress her chuckle, then ducked out into the hall.
Eggs in hand, I dragged my feet across the tiled floor toward the stand mixer and read that goddamn recipe like it was next week’s winning lottery numbers. Of all the things I couldn’t control, this wouldn’t be one of them. I would fucking do this. These cakes would not get the better of me.
Wearing a pound of flour with egg slime sticking clumps of my hair together, I slid three trays of fresh batter into the oven and sent up a silent prayer to the baking gods just as the doorbell rang. I glanced up and threw the oven mitt down on the counter before striding for the front door. Reaching for the knob, I scowled down at myself and brushed my hand over the white powder dusting my black tank.
Awesome. The UPS delivery guy was in for a shock.
The doorbell chimed again, and I pushed up onto my toes, peeking through the window. My heart almost catapulted out of my chest at the sight of Leon standing on the other side of the door.
Shit.
Dropping to the soles of my feet, I put my back to the door and ran my hands over my matted hair. I couldn’t keep my pulse from rushing, throat tightening, chest thumping—an exact imitation of the way I’d reacted to him the night of the bonfire. I’d assumed that was just a response to seeing him again after the way I left things on New Year’s. But apparently, this was just the way I reacted to the guy now. Which was just fucking awesome.
I couldn’t wait to hyperventilate every time I ran into him.
I exhaled through pursed lips and straightened my spine. My body might be spiralling out of control, but no one—fucking no one—did unaffected quite like me.
I turned and pulled the door back.
Leon’s head lifted as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his navy sweatpants.
“Hey,” he murmured, bringing his gaze to mine.
I swallowed, avoiding his eyes. “Bradshaw.”
He cleared his throat, drawing my attention, and the serious look in his eyes sent a tiny sliver of unease through me. “Can I talk to you about something?”
My lungs squeezed, fingers doing the same around the knob. He’d come to call me out, to have the long-delayed morning after conversation. I wasn’t fucking ready for it, but my voice came out steady when I asked, “What?”
“Your mom.”
The word no was halfway out my lips before his words registered. My mom? I quickly pulled it back with a frown. “My mom?”
He hadn’t brought up New Year’s Eve at the bonfire, and now he’d shown up at my door, and he hadn’t come to talk about it. I’d fully prepared myself to shut down any mention of it, but when he failed to bring it up for a second time, a weird sense of disappointment rippled through me, and a small part of me was pissed that he didn’t seem to give a fuck.
A part I’d be strapping to a chair and running an intervention on later.
“Yeah. Is she home?”
I gave my head a light shake, my thoughts taking me down a path I didn’t want to travel. “No. Uh, she went with my uncle to get something looked at with her car.”
His eyebrows pulled together a little. “Mind if I come in?”
I hesitated for a second, rolling my lips over each other before stepping back. I closed the door behind him and leaned back against it as he moved past me. My eyes broke rank and locked on the firm globes of Leon’s ass. I licked my lips without even realizing it.
Of course, he’d fucking catch me.
“What about my mom?” I bit out, crossing my arms.
The tiny hint of a smirk playing over the edge of his lips fell off completely, and my brows drew down in almost identical imitation of his.
“I saw her yesterday outside of Beat’s,” he started. “She was walking up and down, like she didn’t know where she was going. When I stopped and asked her,” he paused with a light cough, a deep crease forming between his brows.
And then my blood roared in my ears, cold dread filling me as I realized where he was going with this.
He’d noticed something.
People were noticing.
I’d told no one. Because as soon as other people knew, it became real. And if other people knew, the way they looked at me—at her—would change. She’d get looks filled with pity, sad smiles, and whispered words, and if I had to deal with that, if she had to deal with that, I might lose my fucking mind.
“She didn’t seem to have any idea who I was.” His head came up, bright blue eyes locking onto mine and confirming my suspicions.
I looked away, drawing my arms behind my back, linking my trembling fingers together. “And what? You’re pissed that you’re not as memorable as you thought?”
“Haven’t seen your aunt since I was ten and she definitely remembered me.”
It was the way he said it that had a stray flare of irritation pulsing in my chest, and I spun to open the door. Because that irritation had another name, one that had no place in this conversation.
“Whatever. My mom has a shitty memory. I’m sure the rest of Claremont’s female and gay population could draw your portrait from memory, including my aunt. Satisfied, Pretty Boy?”
“Is everything okay with your mom?”
My body stilled, freezing when Leon drew up close behind me. The light touch of his rough hand on my wrist felt like a clamp.
“She’s fine,” I murmured, searching for the motivation to tug my arm away.
He didn’t reply, but he started drawing light patterns over my skin with the pad of his thumb. My chest lifted as I fought to keep my lids from sliding closed, and memories of his touch came flooding back.
I’d missed it… his touch.
Fuck, how I’d missed it.
Every other touch that wasn’t his paled in comparison. I’d already known they would.
He took another step, chest brushing against my arm, and I swallowed hard.
“Liss! Aunt Bree said will you check and see if my—Oh.”
Jerking away from Leon, I rubbed a hand down my face as Bella bounded down the stairs and skidded into the
hallway.
Leon cleared his throat and stepped back, a light smile touching his lips as his head swayed toward my sister. “Baby Bedford. You’re a lot bigger than the last time I saw you.”
Bella ran her eyes down Leon’s body, blatantly assessing him without a hint of shame. “And you look like a boy band threw up on you.”
I quickly covered my chuckle with a closed fist, slanting a look over to Leon. His sandy brows scaled his forehead as he blinked down at Bella, a wtf expression on his handsome face. Yep.
“Didn’t realize you had a BF, Liss.” Bella turned to me with a questioning stare.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I corrected, painfully aware of Leon’s eyes on me.
Bella shrugged and flipped her hair, walking past us down the hallway with one last parting comment. “Good. He’s way too pretty for you, and plus, his hair looks flammable.”
Leon’s stunned gaze swung my way as Bella strutted into the kitchen.
“What the fuck did I do to her?” His eyes slitted as he stared down at me. “Did you train her to hate me?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Didn’t have to.”
“Christ. I pity any guy she comes into contact with for the next ten years.” Leon stuck his thumbs on his hips, head lightly swinging on his shoulders as he stared after my sister. “Pretty sure she couldn’t even talk last time I saw her.”
I nodded. “Yeah. We all miss those days.”
A high-pitched beeping sounded from the kitchen and my eyes shot wide. Hurrying through the doorway, I shoved my hand in the mitt and yanked the door down, sliding the tray from the oven and placing it on the counter with a satisfied nod.
Golden. Cakey… ish. Weirdly shaped, but what the hey? Who gave a fuck what a cake looked like?
“You’re baking?” Leon’s deep voice came from behind me.
“Clearly,” I muttered, staving off the shudder his throaty drawl incited.
“Standing that close to a hot appliance not a health hazard for you?” My eyes narrowed. “Any closer and you’ll melt, Snow Queen.”
Unthinkable: (Unstoppable - Book 2) (The Unstoppable Series) Page 15
