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For a moment, there is no reaction from her whatsoever, but then she blinks and turns those hazy brown eyes toward me.
“He didn’t come,” she whispers softly.
Her eyes are on me, but it’s like she’s looking through me instead.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“He promised me.” She blinks, one lone tear falling down her face as her voice grows louder, more frantic. “He promised me he’d be here, but he’s not! Why, Gigi? Why? Did I do something wrong? He said he loved me, but if he did, he’d be here, he’d…”
Shit.
I knew exactly how bad things were when she thought I was her younger sister. It was strange to me that she confused me with a woman who lived on the other side of the country and whom we barely saw, but I guess Mom and Aunt Georgiana used to be closer when they were younger.
“Hey,” I crouch down so we’re on the same level, my hands falling on her shoulders to stop her from thrashing. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s just late. You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just late.”
“How can you know?”
“Because I saw him, okay?” The lie slips easily from my tongue. It took me a while before I realized that was the only thing that would calm Mom enough and get her to go home with me.
“You saw Jackson?” she asks, the skepticism clear in her voice.
“I’m here, aren’t I? How would Iknow where to find you otherwise?” I give her a moment to think it through before continuing. “I saw Jackson, and he asked me to tell you he’d got caught up at work, and he won’t make it today, but he wanted me to give you a ride back home.”
I watch her process my words and pray to God that she believes me. Usually, she did, but some days…
“That man, always working so hard.” Mom shakes her head, wiping away her tears.
“That he is,” I agree, letting my palms slide to her upper arms. “How about I help you up, and we go home, huh? It’ll be the two of us. Girl’s night. We haven’t had one of those in forever. What do you say?”
“Okay,” she finally agrees.
I help her up to her feet. When she walked away, she forgot her shoes, so her feet were bare and dirty from the mud and grass, and God only knows what else. I want to look at them, but I know it’ll only make her more upset, so I bite my tongue and let it be. Her feet can wait. She didn’t seem to be hurt in any other way, which was the only thing that mattered.
From the corner of my eyes, I spot Miguel walking toward us, but I give my head a small shake, hoping he’ll get the memo and stay away as I gently lead Mom toward the truck that’s still left standing in the middle of the street.
I pull open the passenger door and usher her inside, making sure she’s buckled in before closing the door behind her. Only now that she’s safe do I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath, the relief slamming into me like a wrecking ball.
She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine.
“Are you okay?”
My eyes snap open at the sound of that familiar husky baritone, and I come face to face with Miguel’s dark eyes. Worry and something that looks too much like sympathy dance in his eyes, so I glance away, not wanting to face it.
The last thing I need or want is his pity.
“Yeah, I need to get her home. She’s had a hard day.” I run my hand over my face. “I’d give you a ride back, but… she gets really upset around people she doesn’t know when she’s like this.”
“It’s fine. I parked my car at school. I’ll just jog there.”
“School, right.”
I completely forgot what happened there. It felt like the whole interaction was ages ago and not less than a few hours.
“Okay, then.” I look around, my teeth grazing over my lower lip, as I finally meet his gaze. “I… thanks.”
Different emotions swirl inside of me, tying my stomach in knots. I couldn’t forget what happened between the two of us, but at the same time, I felt grateful for having him with me today. I hated his pity, but at that moment, all I wanted to do was curl in his arms and ask him to make it all go away.
It was that last thought that made me take a step back. Not waiting for an answer, I walk around the truck. Miguel doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t stop me. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I take a quick glance at the rearview mirror, the hair at my nape rising to attention.
