Page 54 of Battle Scars

“There’s my darling girl,” my mom calls out before I even have both feet on the ground when we park in her driveway. She’s standing on the front porch with her arms wide and a huge smile on her face.

I shut the door behind me and walk straight into her arms, which settle around me. I might be grown, but every time she embraces me like this, I know I am home.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, smiling when I pull back to look at her beautiful face.

She’s still tall and slim, mainly because she believes in mostly healthy eating and long walks on the beach with her golden retriever, Hugo. Her long hair is more silver than blonde now, and she does not dye it. The faint lines around her eyes tell the story of how her life has been filled with smiles and laughter, but they’re not too deep, because she also believes in a serious skin regime. Everyone always says I look just like her, but my hair is dark—black like my dad’s—and hers is the lightest blonde, now platinum.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says. “Lunch is out on the patio.”

“What did you make?” I ask, because I might be a passable cook, but my mom is the best.

“Curry chicken salad sandwiches, fruit salad, ham and swiss on rolls, and Grandma’s sheet cake,” she says, listing off enough food to feed an army. “Oh! And her lemon bars too.”

“Mom, we may never eat again.” I laugh, and she looks over my shoulder to who I know must be Gabe standing behind me.

Her lips part, and she executes the most attractive gasp. “You must be Mr. Navarro.”

“Just Gabe, ma’am,” he replies, and I swear the deep tone of his voice almost has her in an regency novel swoon.

“Adrienne’s told me all about you.” She smiles a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, but when her words register in my head, my eyes go wide, and my own smile slips right off my face.

I look up at Gabe and watch in horror as he turns to me with one dark brow arched sardonically over his eye. He’s clearly wondering what I’ve told my mother. What I could have possibly shared with her between our torrid affair and all of the toxic communications after fucking, I’m not sure.

“It wasn’t me,” I blurt out.

Mom, still smiling happily, jumps and replies, “Oh, it was Adrian… the elder one,” she explains. “My ex-husband.”

“Ah,” he says noncommittally.

Somehow, I can’t help but feel like I’ll end up paying for the whole thing later, even though I did nothing wrong and the misunderstanding wasn’t my fault. It makes me feel jittery and off balance… again. I need to get rid of all of my excess baggage and find my way back to center again.

“So…” I trail off to redirect the conversation. “The enormous amount of food Hugo is probably mowing through on the patio…?”

“Oh!” She jumps. “Yes. Let’s… But just to add, even if he did decide to go counter-surfing while I was greeting my darling daughter⁠—”

“Your only daughter.”

“My only darling daughter,” she corrects with a laugh, “there is still plenty to go around, but we should go in before he makes his way to the sheet cake.”

“Sounds good, Mom.”

“Who is Hugo?” Gabe whispers the question in my ear on our way through the front door.

“A very lovable old man.”

“Where is my naughty boy?” Mom coos from inside the house.

The minute I step through the door, there is a big woof and then the ponding of footsteps hits.

“Jesus,” Gabe says. “It sounds like a herd of elephants.”

“Have you ever heard a herd of elephants?” I ask but don’t turn back to look at him. I can’t take my eyes off the impending attack. It’s too dangerous.

“Don’t try to cute your way out of this,” he warns, and his voice rumbles in my ear with sexual promise.

“I’m not,” I reply. “And I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We’ll see.”