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“We had one a few weeks ago,” I tease. “I’m good, Mum. Just talking to you has made me feel better.”
“Call me if you need anything,” she orders.
“I will.”
She gently lays a kiss at my temple. “I mean it. You call me. You can feel whatever you need to feel and there will be no judgement from me.”
I reach over, pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you for being the best mum ever.”
She runs a hand down my cheek. “You make it easy,” she admits as she gets to her feet. “Try and get some sleep. And don’t be surprised if Hope turns up in the morning. I heard from your uncle Mason that she’s trying to talk him into letting her borrow the blowtorch to burn Zach’s house down.”
I gasp. “You aren’t joking?”
“No. Mason found it funny until he realised she was being serious. Now Denny wants to lock her in their house.”
“I’ll message her later,” I promise as I reach for the throw blanket.
“Don’t stay up late watching movies,” she warns as she reaches the door.
“I won’t.”
“Love you,” she calls.
“Love you more,” I yell as she closes the door behind her.
Once she leaves, I let out a breath. She’s always been my biggest supporter. Both my parents have. And for her to tell me I can feel whatever I want to feel, it just proves my point. Everyone else will tell me to forget him. They’ll ask why I care after what he’s done. But they didn’t know him the way I did. They didn’t witness the fun we had together. They weren’t there for every late-night phone call. It might not have been perfect all the time, but he still meant something to me.
There is also the fact everyone is treating me like a victim, which I have no right to claim. In a way, I am mostly to blame for what has happened.
I’m also struggling to understand what he is to me now.
Is he my old best friend? Is he my ex? Is he someone I cared for, for a short time? Or is he my greatest mistake?
Needing to rest my mind, I hit play on the movie. As Netflix does its ding, there’s a knock on the door.
I chuckle. It’s probably my dad coming to check in on me again. Normally he doesn’t knock though—he just lets himself in.
Throwing the blanket off, I get up and make my way over to the door. As I pull it open, my brain registers who it is and I panic. I wrap my long cardigan around my body, but I know he’s seen the rubber duck pyjama set when his lip twitches.
Why is Ben here?
“Nice pyjamas.”
Feeling defensive, I straighten. “They’re comfortable, I’ll have you know.”
He smirks. “They look like they’re dancing when the fabric moves.”
I inwardly groan. I have a dozen sets of beautiful pyjamas I could be wearing, but none of them fit the vibe of curling up and watching a movie.
“Stop judging my PJs,” I scold, unable to keep a straight face as laughter slips free. “I thought we already discussed you being at home resting.”
“Then why are you making me stand outside in the cold?” he asks, arching a brow.
Crap! “Come in,” I offer, holding the door open wider. “Do you want a drink?”
He glances over at the coffee table. “Is that hot chocolate?”
“With extra marshmallows,” I answer.
