“Is there anything else you need?”
“Take a load off.” She gestures to the chair in the corner of the room, and I sit. “This is good.”
“Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe.”
“Hmm,” is her only reply.
“Did you know her grandmother?” I’ve spent the last weeks trying to uncover my mother’s secrets. It didn’t occur to me that I have a whole family of skeletons out there somewhere. I know my mom’s parents weren’t around, and she was raised by her grandma, but my knowledge ends there.
She wrinkles her nose. “You mean Grandma Spy? Yeah, I knew her.”
I lift a brow. “Grandma Spy? I thought her name was Violet.”
A throaty chuckle rumbles in her chest. “It was, bless her heart. She was known about town for bein’ a watcher. She’d sit inside the house all day spyin’ on the entire neighborhoodthrough the crack in her curtains, smokin’ Pall Malls like they were her only source of sustenance.”
A laugh escapes. “That’s funny.”
“She was …” She trails off, trying to find the right words before continuing. “An interesting lady.” I cock my head as if to urge for further explanation. Cindy gets the message and sets her bowl on her lap with a sigh. “She was very religious. Cold. It was tough for Sarah.”
“What happened to her parents?”
“Welp, your gran—I think her name was … Maggie?—anyway, she had your mom young. Still in high school and not ready to be a mama. She wanted to get rid of the baby, but Grandma Spy was havin’ none o’ that. She stuck it out for a couple of years, raised your mamma up to toddler, then split with some guy she met on the outskirts of town.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. Sarah went through a lot growin’ up. It was no surprise she left. Leavin’ was in her blood, I guess.”
“What about you?”
Her eyes crinkle in the corners. “Whataboutme?”
“I don’t know anything about you, really. Other than you were my mom’s friend.”
A laugh blows from her nose. She sets her bowl on the nightstand and curls up under the covers. “There’s not much to tell. Born here, raised here. I’ll prolly die here, too.”
“Jace said his dad died on an oil rig. Were you together long?”
A faraway look streaks across her gaze. “We met in high school. Jackson, God, he was as infuriatin’ as he was gorgeous. I fell for him instantly. The day he went to ask my daddy for my hand, he was chased out of the house with a shotgun.” She lifts her hand over her mouth as if holding in her giggle. “I was sure he was gone for good, but he came back with a job and a ring and insisted he’d be the husband I deserved. And he was. A littlewhile later, we settled into life, had Jace …” She looks down at her quilt-covered legs. “He was a good daddy. Jace just adored him.” When she lifts her eyes, they’re damp with unshed tears. “A thirteen-year-old boy without a father ain’t right.”
“I’m sorry you lost him.”
She shrugs. “Thank you for the soup, El. It was delicious. But if it’s all the same to you, imma go to sleep and kick this damn virus to the curb.”
“Sleep well.” I rise to my feet and take the bowl with me as I go.
In the kitchen, Jace hovers over a steaming bowl. Beside him, another sits untouched with a slice of bread and butter next to it. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. The gesture is there, and it’s enough.
I pull up a chair and dip my spoon in the broth. We eat in silence. The only sound is the clang of silverware until he eventually pushes his bowl away and sits back. “I know you just wanted to do somethin’ nice. I shouldn’t have been such a shit.”
The unexpected apology steals the breath from my lungs. “You’re worried about your mom. It’s okay.”
“I’ll try to be better, alright?”
I meet his gaze, wondering who the hell this guy is and what happened to Jace.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says with a dismissive wave. “I still think you’re a pain in the ass, but I can see you’re tryin’.”
I stir my soup and watch the veggie cyclone spin in a circle. “I know you don't want me here. I invaded your home, took over your room, and intruded on your school, all because my mother couldn’t handle the consequences of her own actions. Now you’re stuck with me.”