I watch as the wheels throw gravel and dust while Devlin pulls out of the quarry.
Getting into the car Blair had been driving, I grip the wheel tight. I’m a man on a mission as I turn the ignition and drive home.
Thirty
Thea
When my call goes to Connor’s voicemail, I hang my shoulders in defeat. I thought things would be better after our amazing night in the mountains, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him for days. Every time I look across the space between our windows, his light has been off.
“You’ve reached Bishop. You know I don’t check this shit, so I don’t know why you’re bothering. Text me.”
There goes my plan to invite him with Maisy and I to the holiday bazaar downtown. Winter break is off to a great start with my boyfriend back to avoiding me.
With a sigh, I set my phone next to the rainbow clock on my nightstand and flop on the bed, hugging my stuffed sea lion.
An unpleasant flutter fills my chest.
Could Connor be bored with me? If he is, why would he tell me…
I close my eyes and just breathe for a second to stop the racing thoughts and nasty inner voice that makes me doubt everything. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep it at bay.
You’re not good enough to keep someone like him. He’ll forget you soon enough.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. The thoughts chew me up, leaving me raw and vulnerable. Curling on my side, I hug the sea lion tighter, burying my face in the plush fuzziness.
I can’t go back to being invisible. Not to him.
After a few minutes of breathing through the thorns twining around my heart, pricking at every insecurity, I get up and pat my puffy cheeks.
“This calls for double chocolate fudge cupcakes.”
With a sniffle, I text Maisy before the evening yoga sessions start at the wellness and recreation center she volunteers for.
Thea: Great British Bake Off marathon after your class?
Maisy: You got it, dude. Which season?
Thea: [hiding monkey emoji] All of them…?
Maisy: Oh lordt. Should I cancel class? The yoga moms can survive one day without their warrior 2 and downward dog.
Thea: No, no. I’m going to bake us cupcakes until you get here. See you after class!
Maisy sends me two peace sign emojis and promises not to eat all the cupcakes this time. I pull on the hoodie I stole from Connor, press the neckline to my nose, and close my eyes. It feels like he’s hugging me when I wear it.
Downstairs, Constantine follows me into the kitchen while I tie my hair back in a pony tail. A few minutes later I have the oven preheating, my supplies are out, and the cupcakes are underway.
I’m still feeling sensitive about Connor as I’m mixing the batter when Mom walks in, eyeing me critically. I’m too tired to fend her off if she says anything about wearing my boyfriend’s hoodie.
“Mom,” I say in greeting while she pours herself a glass of wine. It’s not her first of the day.
“What are you making today?” she asks after a minute of stale silence.
An exhale leaves me, unwinding the tension in my shoulders. It’s okay. She’s going to be normal and not attack me.
“Double chocolate fudge cupcakes. Extra gooey.” I direct my hesitant smile at the mixing bowl. “Would you rather have peanut butter or cream cheese frosting?”
Mom says nothing. I look up to find her gaze narrowed on me in disappointment.
“Yeah…” I trail off. “You’re right. Peanut butter would probably be too rich with the chocolate. Still, I’m kind of craving it, so I guess I’ll make a batch of both.”
I’m desperate for a scrap of normalcy with her. It’s always made me crazy that I can’t have the same bond with her I had with grandma. Part of me wonders if she’s resented me all these years because I liked baking and she never did, so grandma and I had something Mom couldn’t get from her.
“Are those for that horrible boy next door?” The acid in her voice stings.
A weak protest catches in my throat. I was wrong. She’s primed for attack after all, and I’m too drained to clash with her.
Mom continues before I can push any response out, planting her hands on the island between us. “Look at you, like his little housewife baking away. You have to understand, Thea. Men aren’t trustworthy.” Her voice drops to a horrible, grating whisper as she tears into me. “His doting is all a lie. He doesn’t want you. All of them are the same—only after one thing.”
“Mom, can we not?” With a frown, I shut her out, keeping my spine straight as I work on the batter. “I’m so tired of having this argument.”
Circling the island, she pinches the sleeve of Connor’s hoodie and yanks. “We clearly need to have it. You must’ve given him what he wanted, so now he’ll drop you. If that’s all he does, you’ll be lucky.”
The words cut deep, blow after fatal blow.
She hasn’t bothered me with this in over a month, so she must have been bottling it up to dump on me all at once. I clutch the whisk hard enough the handle leaves an indent in my palm.
“Mom, please,” I whisper in a tight voice, holding back the tears pooling in my eyes.
I’ve held out against her for so long, never giving in. But everything she’s saying pulls on the same fears that haunted me in my bedroom when Connor didn’t take my call.
“You’re going to end up just like my sister.”
I blink. “Wait—what?”
Mom closes her eyes. “You had an aunt. My younger sister. Momma’s favorite.”
This is news to me. I knew Mom and grandma had bad blood between them all the way up to when she passed away, but this is something Mom has never talked about.
“She met a boy when she was in high school, about your age. I’d gone off to college and couldn’t keep an eye on her.” Mom’s lip curls, gulping her wine. Now she’s so close, I can smell it on her breath. Her eyes are too bright. “She was always dressing for attention and it caught his eye. He was older, but it doesn’t matter. They all want one thing. He got it from her, all right. Left her dead in a ditch for it once he had her body.”
“Mom,” I breathe. “Jesus.”
Everything about her strictness with me, why she’s always nagged me to dress conservatively, becomes crystal clear. But it doesn’t mean Connor is like the man who hurt her sister.
She’s silent for a beat, eyes glassy. “Too infatuated. Thought he hung the moon. Just like you.”
“I—Connor isn’t like that. He’s always been sweet and gentle with me, even when we—” I cut off. Crap. “He’s a good guy, Mom.”
She folds her arms and nods like she has all the confirmation she needs. “You should’ve listened to me in the first place.”
With the satisfaction of the final word and making me feel small on top of telling me about her sister’s death, she takes her wine—the glass and the bottle—and leaves me alone, crying over my cupcake batter.