“Okay.” I keep my focus on breakfast, and thankfully, my mom runs out of steam for a whole freaking thirty seconds.
“Did you let Bullet out last night?”
I crack the egg, watching it sizzle against the heat. “No.”
“Then how did he get outside?”
My brow furrows, and I actually start considering what she’s saying.Did I let Bullet out last night? I know I didn’t do it this morning. When would I have let him out? Did I just never let him back in?
“He probably slipped out through the utility room. That latch hasn’t been quite right in a few years.”
I blink a few times, before flipping the egg. “You should get that fixed.”
“No need to be rude, Rue.”
“Sorry.” I clear my throat and grab one of the clean plates from the rack, plopping the egg onto it.
“You could fix it.”
I nod, my stomach knotting up as I pop a piece of bread into the toaster and another egg into the pan. While it all cooks, I pour my mom a cup of coffee, adding just enough creamer to taint the black liquid.
Her eyes stay trained on me while I set the cup down in front of her, and then move on to finishing her plate of eggs and toast. “Are you going to eat?”
I shake my head. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Hmm.” She busies herself with cutting into the egg, letting out a pained sigh. “This is moreeasythan medium, Rue, but I guess it’s better than nothing.”
I force some sort of smile at her, but there’s no words—only fatigue. I want more than anything to get the hell out of this house already, and I’ve only been here for twenty-four hours.
That isnota good sign.
While my mother grumbles and eats, I clean up the kitchen, and then move to the living room, dusting. I don’t find myself to be one of those who cares all that much about a place being spotless, butanythingto keep me busy is worth it.
“I’d like to read for a while,” Mom announces, her fork clanking down on the ceramic plate and startling me. Again.
I guess that’s just something I’m going to have to get used to.
“Where do you want to read?” I ask her, setting down the dust rag. “In here?”
She rolls her eyes. “You should know I prefer to read in my room.”
“Sorry.” I breathe out the word, already feeling defeated. But still, I roll the woman to her room, find her self-help book stash, and plant her,Living in Grace,book in her lap. “How’s that?”
She peers up at me. “Fine. There’s a grocery list on the counter somewhere. I’d really like to have that stew I used to make. It’s better than eating sandwiches, which I’m sure is what you had on the menu.”
There’s nothing wrong with a good sandwich.
“I’ll go into town this afternoon,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’ll probably go for a walk first, get some fresh air before I face the people.”
“No one in town thinks anything about you,” Mom hums. “They probably won’t even recognize you.”
“With all the weight I’ve gained?”All ten pounds of it.
“You just scream city girl now,” Mom eyes my Converse. Which I’ve literally been wearing since I was a kid.
Noah bought me my first pair.The memory comes from nowhere, and I choke it back, surprised by the way it makes my throat tighten.I should’ve kept up with him. I should’ve done something to not lose touch.
But I can’t remember enough to even know where to start.
