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Yeah, her apartment wasn’t the best and the neighborhood sucked, and most of the people in the complex were either on drugs or selling them, but this was home. And she loved it.
She loved it because she’d gotten it all on her own, without any help. All the things inside she’d saved up for and bought herself.
And now her mother was here, her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at her.
It wasn’t like her presence could take everything from her, squash all her accomplishments, but it felt like that. It felt like the second her mother stepped over the threshold into her apartment, everything was over.
“Mother,” Abbie said slowly, forcing herself to take a step forward. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a few things to discuss with you.” She glanced over her shoulder as Wes’ door opened and he stepped out.
He turned and paused, his blue eyes wide as he shifted them between Abbie and her mother. Roughly, he cleared his throat and hesitated before stepping forward, giving Abbie a wary look. He could probably feel the unease rippling off Abbie, and the disapproval coming from her mother.
“Abbie-Girl,” he murmured, still looking between the two women.
“Hey, Wes. This is my mother. Mother, this is my friend Wes.” Her mother gave him a tight, demure smile as she clutched her purse tighter to her side.
“Ma’am.” He dipped his head as he passed, and she all but plastered herself to Abbie’s door. “You good?” His voice was low enough for only her to hear.
“Fine. I’ll text you later.” She patted his arm and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he still looked unsure. He knew some of what happened.
A few days after she moved in, she’d accidentally locked herself out of her apartment. She was sitting against her door sobbing and generally feeling bad about herself, berating herself, telling herself she couldn’t make it on her own and how stupid she’d been to think otherwise.
But then Wes’ grease-stained boots stopped in front of her before he crouched and asked if she needed help. She spilled her guts to him that night.
“I promise I’m okay,” she said softly, her fingers tightening on his arm. He gave her mother a final glance, one that wasn’t entirely friendly, and nodded before reluctantly making his way down the stairs.
“You have interesting friends,” her mother sneered, and Abbie took a deep breath.
She just wanted a reaction, and Abbie wouldn’t give it to her. Not today.
“Would you like to come inside?” she asked tiredly, gesturing to the door. Her mother barely stepped to the side as Abbie rummaged through her Ottie look-alike purse and found her gold key at the bottom.
She tried to ignore her presence as she shoved her door open and stepped inside, trying to remember if she’d cleaned up. But who was she kidding? Of course she hadn’t remembered to clean up.
Clothes were strewn everywhere, a half-drunk cup of coffee was still sitting on the counter, and a crumpled bag of Cheetos was on her clear acrylic coffee table. Panic clawed at her chest as she looked around, and she braced herself for her mother’s reprimand.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, her hands tightened around her purse, her lips still pressed tightly together as she walked into her living room. She paused when she saw her otter chair, her Botoxed brows barely rising.
“Is that an…”
“Otter? Yeah, it is.” Abbie dropped her bags on the counter before turning toward her mother. It was a small apartment, basically everything in one room.
Living room and U-shaped kitchen were one open space, and a small hallway in the back led to her bedroom and the bathroom. Her mother got a good look at everything as she scanned the small space before her gaze finally landed on her.
“Were you shopping?” she asked, giving her toy store bag a pointed look. Abbie chewed her lip as she glanced at it and the gift bag beside it.
“Um, yeah. Kylie’s daughter’s birthday is Tuesday,” she lied. “I wanted to get her something.”
“Kylie?”
“A girl I work with,” she muttered.
Kylie was probably the only one she actually liked. She was a custodian and extremely introverted, but kind. Or Abbie thought she was kind. She’d never actually had a conversation with her. They just smiled as they passed each other in the hallway.
Her mother nodded a few times, then looked at the pink velvet couch, then back at the otter chair. “You can sit,” Abbie blurted. “The couch might be more comfortable than the chair.”
