Cindy attempts to serve the food, but Jace stands in her way. “You go ahead, Mama. I got this.”
Cindy smiles. “My sweet boy.”
My heart aches for my own mother. Jace and Cindy have such a strong connection. My mom and I had a special relationship, but we were more akin to friends than mother and daughter. By the time I was a teenager, her business had grown so successful that I was pretty much left to fend for myself. Sure, she was there, but not like this.
The ache dies to a dull throb. What would my life be like had my mother raised me in this type of environment? Would she still be alive? Would she have found a husband? Settled down? The idea of having a reliable relationship becomes almost overwhelming. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like such an intruder here had my upbringing been normal.
With dinner on the table, we gather round to eat. Jace falls into his chair, refusing to make eye contact, but I can’t help butwatch him from across the table as he helps his mother cut her meat. “You’re on knife restriction,” he grumbles with a wry grin.
Butterflies wing in my stomach. I put a spoonful of carrots on my plate and take a bite. The sweet tang of honey melts on my tongue, then explodes in buttery goodness. I hover my fingers over my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Everythin’ alright?” Cindy asks.
“This is delicious.”
“Mom’s clumsy, but she’s a great cook.” For a split second, Jace graces me with the same adorable look he does his mother.
The day started in a blur. When I got off the plane, I was too wrapped up in my own emotional torment to notice, but after a shower and a nap, I’m staring at Jace as if I’m seeing him for the first time. He’s … beautiful. An Abercrombie model in Walmart threads. I’m taken aback by the rushing in my gut. I want to run my fingers over that gorgeous layer of day-old growth dappling his chiseled jaw. I wonder if it’s soft or scratchy. Either way, I bet it would feel incredible skating across my skin.
But as quickly as the awakening came, a cold door closes it out. He drops his gaze and shovels a forkful into his mouth like a philistine lout. Like my mom always used to say: you can’t polish a turd, I guess.
Cindy stabs at a piece of chicken. “Are you excited for your first day at Hell's Bend High tomorrow?”
“Nervous. I hope they like me.”
Jace snorts.
Cindy shoots him a look, but her upbeat voice doesn’t falter. “They’re gonna love you.” She reaches out and covers my hand in hers. “Oh, that’s a pretty ring,” she says, twisting the tumbling row of emerald-cut diamonds to the front of my finger.
“It was my mother’s.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my stars, it was! I remember that ring.”
Emotion lodges in my throat. “You do?” I whisper.
“She ever tell you the story behind it?”
I shake my head.
Cindy pulls her lips to the side. “Welp…that’s one for another day, I guess.”
I glance at the ring that’s been on my hand since I was thirteen. She told me it was the only thing of value she brought with her when she moved to New York, but she never mentioned any history behind it. I ache to know the story of her past, but I get the feeling I’ll have to draw it out little by little.
Dinner continues with polite conversation while Jace stews in silence. He eats like a wolf who’s not seen a meal in days. I’ve never seen a person consume so much food in such a short amount of time. I suppose, when you’re that burly, it takes a lot of sustenance to stay sated. Still, when I take a piece of chicken from the platter, I’m almost afraid he’ll bite my hand.
I lean back in my chair, my belly so full it could burst. Jace takes his and Cindy’s plates to the sink, then comes back to clear the table. I rise to help but collide with his thick chest in the small kitchen. He grasps my shoulders to hold me steady, then pushes me aside like I'm garbage.
Cindy stands. “You kids look like you can handle this. I’m gonna go watchDancin’ With The Stars.”
She lays her hand on Jace’s chest, and he leans down with a kiss on her part. “Thanks for dinner, Ma.”
“Sure, baby.”
“Thank you, Cindy. Everything was incredible.”
With another warm grin, she heads for the den.
I start picking up the empty platters and bowls, but Jace knocks against me with his hip. “Didn’t I already tell you no one needs your help? Quit the fuckin’ good girl act.”