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“Same layout,” she said, walking beside me, but keeping a half a foot between us. “I like the dark walls.”
“I’ve been busy painting,” Mom said. “Hopefully the fumes haven’t bothered you.”
“No. Not at all. So, you did all this?” She looked around the main living area. It was the mirror image of her layout.
I glanced at the bottle and saw it was apple cider. I couldn’t keep the grin inside at the thoughtfulness. She’d remembered I didn’t drink, and I’d only mentioned it on a chat one night…more than a week ago.
“Hope you like grape.” She smiled.
“Perfect.” I glanced at the dining room table. It was all set for dinner. “I’ll get the wine glasses. Have a seat.”
Mom and Lina chatted quietly as I searched through the cabinets for glasses. God, this almost felt normal. Like there wasn’t a care in the world, just me having dinner with my…friendand my mom.
Like I hadn’t just gotten let go from my job for a month and forced into therapy. Like I didn’t have a lunatic father out there somewhere searching for us. Like I wasn’t…alone.
I gathered up the glasses and hurried back to the table in time for Mom to be dishing up the food. We ate as we settled into comfortable chatter about surface topics. Lina never pushed things. I knew she had a batch of her own secrets, so she respected my privacy as I did hers.
It was nice, even though it pained me to think I could never tell her about being in witness protection.Ever.
“Why don’t you go give her a tour while I pick up here?” Mom said as she stood. “I’ll get the dessert ready.”
“I’ll help you with the dishes.” Lina reached for my plate. “Besides, it’s the same layout as mine, right? I could probably find my way around here better than you guys.”
“I bet.” Mom placed her hand on Lina’s forearm. “But let me do this. Hunter can show you around. I want you to be comfortable here.”
Lina held Mom’s gaze for a several seconds as if they spoke silently between one another.
It was then that I realized why. Mom had been brutally attacked, victimized, and she’d always said she could pick out a survivor with a look, that there was an innate connection that could never be shared with another.
That was it. Like Mom, Lina had been brutally attacked. Hurt so deeply she’d retreated to her home and hadn’t ever left.
No wonder she’d reacted to my black eye and my size…probably everything about me scared the shit out of her. Or at least used to.
But now Mom wanted Lina to get comfortable here? That probably wasn’t smart—
“Okay. I’d like to see the place,” she said to me.
Those eyes. When I’d first seen them in the elevator that night we’d met, they were dull, filled with fear. But now…there was a spark in them. I might have helped that along too, and the thought filled me with pride. Not the ego pride I’d gotten last night when those guys were congratulating me on kicking that douche bag’s ass. No, this was more of the contentment-type pride. I wanted to help people like Lina. Like my mom.
I offered my hand to Lina and nodded.
She took the two steps around the table separating us and slid her hand into mine as a smile filled her face. “Dinner was great, Lisa. Thank you.”
“Sure, honey.”
I led Lina to the left, down the hallway to Mom’s master suite and office.
“No pictures on the walls yet?”
“We’re not known for decorating much.” Probably because we’d never been able to stay anywhere very long before Dad found us. “Mostly just painting the walls. And we always have to have a view.”
“Always?”
“Well, we…move around a lot.”
She looked up at me. “Why’s that?”
“Haven’t found the right place yet, I guess. Mom’s job, too. That takes us places.” I almost choked around the lie. Dad was the reason. It made me hate him that much more that Mom and I had never been able to put down roots anywhere.
