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The door to the bathroom opened, and Mom stepped out. Steam billowed out of the room since she’d been in there for nearly an hour. Hopefully, there was still hot water left now that she was done.
Her hair was wrapped up in a towel, and she wore the thick robe Liam had delivered along with a selection from the store. I hadn’t even realized he’d bought clothes for her at first. I adored him so much, especially since he’d planned for this in the middle of everything else.
“Sorry, darling,” Mom said as she walked across the room to where I was sitting. I would have gone to help her, but she waved me back to my seat as she eased onto the sofa with me. This close, it was hard to miss the trembling. “I had to take a break during the shower.”
“If you needed help, I could have come in there…”
“I thought I would be fine,” she said, slowly pulling the towel from her hair. The long mass fell dark and wet against her shoulders. For the first time in my life, there were streaks of silver scattered amidst the dark hair.
She still seemed so pale and shaky. The vivacious, sometimes larger than life, woman with immaculate cosmetics and hair was utterly absent. In her place was a reasonably attractive, if fragile, woman with her nerves on full display.
“Can I get you anything?” I offered, preparing to stand, but Mom shook her head.
“No, darling, I think you and your friends have done a lot for me. I just need to get my strength up. Showering shouldn’t take every ounce of energy I have.”
While I agreed with her on many levels, I’d also been completely worn out before, not to mention drugged, and Mickey hadn’t told me everything they subjected her to, either.
Then again, Mom had said very little. She slept, a lot. After the first few days, Mickey hadn’t had to give her more sedatives. She didn’t rally, not at first. If anything, she seemed to sink deeper into depression.
“Mom…” I leaned forward, but she glanced away and then stood. Almost fumbling with her towel, she moved away. “I know you haven’t wanted to talk about this.”
“Darling,” she said, not entirely turning to face me. If anything, she only let me see her profile and there were tears on her face. “I—I don’t want to make you talk about any of that.”
Before I could say anything, a firm knock struck the door. There was no mistaking her flinch as she jumped nor the cautious look she threw at the door. The sense of panic bruised my heart. I understood that fear.
“It’s a friend,” I promised her. No one who wasn’t a friend would just knock on the door. To get to this one, they needed to get into the warehouse and then into the clubhouse. We’d hear it if it weren’t a friend.
But Mom took the clean clothes we’d set out and vanished into the bathroom before I even reached the door. Swallowing a sigh, I opened the door to Milo.
The quick once-over he gave me was enough to make me smile. They all did it in distinctive ways. It was like they had to scan me for injuries and verify for themselves that I was alright, at least physically.
“Hey, Ivy,” he murmured, putting a hand on my bicep before he shot me a quiet, questioning look. He always waited for me to come forward a little and then he’d press a kiss to my temple. The one-armed hug was always there, but if I stepped into him then I got a full one.
Right now, I needed the hug. Milo and I were still working our way through this relationship thing. The easy affection he had for me, especially if I needed it? It was magical.
“Hey,” I greeted him. “Everything good?”
“I came to ask you that,” he said, giving me a little squeeze before he scanned the room behind me. “How is she?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admitted. It was almost awkward right now. Was it because she was getting cleaner and clearer? Was her own guilt and self-consciousness playing into it? I wasn’t sure. “You want to come in?”
After another searching look, he nodded. The guys had been very cautious with Mom so far, but there had also been enormous distractions. The time was coming when we needed to ask her questions.
They needed to ask her. They were being gentle with her for my sake, but the swift withdrawals were as much a fear and panic response as anything.
Sometimes, I was the same way. If I didn’t talk about something, then I could pretend it wasn’t happening to me. Folding my arms, I retreated toward the sofa again. “Mom is getting dressed.”
He nodded slowly, tracking my path until I took a seat before he followed me and took the chair closest to me. He’d barely sat when the bathroom door opened again and he rose to his feet.
Mom slipped out like a wraith, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized tunic. Both were more suited to me than her. She looked—so normal in the clothes. It was hard to wrap my mind around it, around her.
Weirdest of all, her nails were bare of any polish. Outside of pedicures and manicures, I couldn’t think of a time in my life when her nails weren’t some fun color. Moving slowly, she glanced from me to where Milo stood. Her movements were excruciatingly careful, like she was hurting.
I needed to talk to Mickey to see if she might be having some kind of side effects or lingering consequences of the meds they’d had her on.
“Mrs. Sharpe,” Milo said as she stopped behind the opposite armchair and faced him.
Mom studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching so thin it felt like it would snap.
