Page 16 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I had stopped waiting for my mother years ago. Unfortunately, the nail biting remained.

“Honey?” Meme answered on the second ring, her voice breathless enough to make guilt settle beneath my ribs.

“I’m okay,” I said quickly. “Before you ask anything else, I’m okay.”

“Where have you been? I called you eight times.”

“My phone died, and the truck broke down.”

“The truck.” Her voice changed immediately. “The same truck I told you not to take this morning?”

I closed my eyes.

“Yes, Meme. That truck.”

“I told you something was wrong with it when you came back from the feed store last week. It made that awful noise all the way up the drive.”

“It makes a lot of noises. I didn’t realize that particular one was important.”

“Carson Anne.”

“I know.”

Through the office window, Beau glanced over again. I turned slightly away from him, not that the thin wall or closed door gave me much privacy.

“Where are you?” Meme asked.

“Jones Automotive. Jax went to tow the truck.”

“You walked there?”

The silence that followed was worse than yelling.

“It wasn’t that far.”

“How far?”

I looked toward the ceiling, as though an answer might be written somewhere between the stained tiles.

“Two miles. Maybe a little more.”

“Carson.”

“I’m fine.”

“You walked over two miles through a thunderstorm with your⁠—”

“Meme.”

The warning left me sharper than intended.

Her voice softened. “Is it hurting?”

I glanced down at my jeans. The wet denim clung to the shape of both legs, but the heavy material and my boots concealed anything unusual. The ache around my residual limb had turned into a steady pulse, and I knew I would regret the walk once I removed the prosthetic later.

“It’s sore,” I admitted quietly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You always say that.”