Clare reached over the counter and tugged a Kleenex from the box.
“What did he do?” Attempting to keep her voice level didn’t seem to be working, but if Catriona had noticed, she didn’t show it. “Did he cheat on you?”
“Worse.”
What was worse than cheating? Rape? Fuck. If that kid laid a hand on Cat without her consent she’d string him up by his dick and cut off his balls with a rusty knife.
“Did he hurt you?”
Cat put her spoon onto the plate and shook her head. “Not physically. He’s using again. He said he stopped. He promised he’d stop, but…”
Relief doused the raging fire in Clare’s chest, and a wave of pride washed over her. Her baby was making good choices, even if she’d made questionable ones at first.
“I caught him. I thought he’d stopped. I mean, he might have, but he’s back using and I don’t want to be around that, Mom. I really don’t.”
She gave Cat another big squeeze. “While I’m not thrilled you were dating that intergalactic asshole, I’m very proud of you for stepping away from that shit. You have a bright future ahead of you, and I don’t want it shit on by fuckingChad.”
Cat nodded. “It just hurts, you know?”
She knew all too well.
Another tidal wave of sobbing and tears erupted from Cat and Clare watched helplessly as she dealt with her first asshole ex-boyfriend, her first heartbreak, her first betrayal.
Getting to nineteen without having a broken heart experience was pretty good going as far as relationships went, but it still tore her apart to watch her baby cry over a dumb fucking boy. Let alone one who didn’t deserve her kid in the least.
Fucking Chad.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Another sniff, a lip quiver, and wide, sad, and watery eyes filled with gut-wrenching sadness. “Just don’t say you told me so. I’m well aware.” Cat picked up her plate and dragged her tongue through the brownie-ice cream debris.
Clare’s hand shot out and smacked Cat’s forearm. “Gross.”
“We’re in the privacy of our own home, Mom. If I wanna lick the plate, then I’m sorry, but I’mma lick the motherfuckin’ plate.” She pointed the almost clean plate at Clare. “And you can’t even judge me. I live with you, remember?”
She snorted. The kid had a point.
“I’m going upstairs to cry it out to angsty music for a little bit.”
When she reached out to touch her, Cat shrugged her off, sending a pang through her chest into her heart. “I’ll be okay, Mom. I just need a little time.”
The black cloud of sadness hanging over her kid grew darker as she trudged out of the kitchen, but a double chime forced her not to dwell as both the oven timer and the doorbell rang at the same time.
Fuck. She hurried to pull the pan of chicken pasta bake from the oven and place it on a trivet before bolting through the house to answer the door.
Oven gloves still in hand, disheveled, wrapped in an apron that probably had more food on it than her kitchen counters, she answered the door.
“Kenzie?” Clare stepped out onto the porch and peered around her next door neighbor.
If that asshole ex-husband of Kenzie’s had made a reappearance, Clare was more than prepared to Carrie Underwood the shit out of his fancy pants car.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. I wanted to bring you these.” She handed over a bouquet of flowers. “To say thanks, for… you know…” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward her house. “Rescuing me.”
“Psssh. I don’t need thanks—us single ladies have to stick together, right?” She paused. “Plus, you’ve already said thank you, Kenz. A couple of times now.” She fell quiet, hoping Kenzie would fill the silence.
Her beautiful, southern belle neighbor’s pale cheeks flushed rosy. Considering she had been at prom with Austin Morgan—oftheMinnesota Morgan fame—Clare was pretty sure she wasn’t a single lady any longer.
