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“Say no.” Another very familiar voice says from behind me. “Although vertically challenged, Rory’s a stone-cold killer.”
A smile freezes on my face as I wheel around. Dressed in the stuffy DuPont suit, Jamie’s chin-length hair hangs around his face, but he forks it back. Behind him is a woman who could easily conduct the choir at Zion Missionary Baptist Church. She’s plump, and her short tresses curl around the ears. Oh crap. The mom.
“Hi.” I offer a tiny wave.
“Jake, Rory, Lach,” she starts shouting out names, “wash up for supper. And young lady, I see you have made yourself at home. Has my son finally decided to feed ya?”
I gasp on air.
“C’mon, Mom,” Jamie huffs.
Spine erect, I push out a hand and muster my deep-rooted confidence. “Hi, Mrs. MacKenzie, I’m Willow Greene.”
She gives my hand a firm shake. “Jamie’s Willow?”
“Yes. Willow arrived a few minutes before you all, Mom. She’s here for Jamie. Stop being paranoid,” Camdyn says, placing a bag of potatoes onto the island.
“Nan,” Mrs. MacKenzie tells me, then glares across the massive island. “Cam, I’ll not be believing that lie. Willow, I appreciate you for not corroborating his story. Pop a squat while I cook. Boys, offer your friend something to drink in the meantime.”
Boys?Damn, this looks bad. Tatum’s diva fit was warranted.
Camdyn’s eyes lift, and he strolls out the kitchen—like he has no intention of returning.
Jamie wraps an arm around my waist. “Mom’s pissed. Come, sit. One of my little brothers is gonna break something soon; she’ll forget you spent the night.”
“Camdyn left me.” I shuffle out an exhale. I’m so shocked by Camdyn’s abandonment that I just notice Jamie’s embrace. I pull away and slide into the seat.
“No,” Jamie scoots in the breakfast nook after me, “he placed you in more capable hands.”
He’s asking what I’d like to drink when I blurt, “Should I return your—”
“No.” He places his backpack onto the table and removes the DuPont blazer. He starts to slide out of the seat, but I grab his arm. I’m freaking out about their mom and how Camdyn just left me.
“Willow, you’re cute when you, ahem . . . I mean . . .” His heaving helps me regulate my breath. Jamie hocks a thumb over his shoulder, and I finally let him go. “I’m gonna get us some water bottles.”
While Nan hums, buzzing around the kitchen, I focus on the embarrassment creeping up my neck. I’m gonna kill Camdyn!
Jamie appears again, bottles in hand. He’s staring at me thoughtfully. I unfurrow my brows and smile. “I’m sorry.” The bout of discomfort drops in my court again. Why did I even apologize? Camdyn and I are doing what grown folks do. “Um, for grabbing your arm. I shouldn’t have.”
Jamie and I share a laugh at my expense. Once our laughter dies down, we salvage the connection we had in physics class—as friends. After a while, Jamie’s drawn a blueprint of our pendulum. I’ve computed numbers, and the aromatics coming from Nan’s stove zing into my brain. My stomach does all the talking. Jamie comes back to the table with a bag of chips. “This should hold you over.”
“Thanks.” I take a Dorito.
“I . . . I’ve got a question for you as it pertains to my brother. Can I be honest?”
My heart lobs into my throat. God, please don’t disclose something that’ll make me regret this morning. I give a scarce nod, muttering, “Let’s always be honest with each other.”
“Have you and Cam discussed the Green Room?”
