Page 8 of Inseparable
Jennifer returns with our pancakes and bacon just as I’ve finished filling Mariah in.
“Well,” Mariah says, carefully cutting up her bacon. “That explains a lot.”
“What did he do?” I know he did something, or someone, more to the point. I add an extra layer of steel over my heart in preparation.
“He seemed sober when he arrived, but he lost no time getting absolutely wasted. Like, I’ve never seen the dude so out of it. He was falling all over the place and mouthing off to anyone who dared cross paths with him.” She shakes her head, slowly chewing her food. “I hate to say it, Ange, because I know how much you care for him, but he’s a train wreck waiting to happen.”
I put my fork down. “I’m worried about him. He was acting weird last night. Something is going on with him, but, of course, he refuses to tell me anything. When we were kids, I was their equal, but now, both Ayden and Devin seem to think I need to be protected from stuff, and it irritates the crap out of me.” I yank a piece of bacon with my teeth, chewing ferociously.
“That means they care.”
“I know, but it’s still annoying. They can care without keeping secrets.” She pins me with a knowing look. “It’s not the same,” I protest. “My secret is secret for a reason.” Her face is frustratingly neutral as she waits me out. “My secret would kill our friendship stone dead. The dynamics have already changed, and the admission that I”—I look around, making sure no one is in ear shot, and lower my voice—“am in love with Dev would be the final nail in the coffin.”
“Maybe, or maybe not. Perhaps, if Devin knew how you felt about him, he would stop all the sleeping around and drinking. Maybe he would be a better person for you.”
“He should want to be a better person for himself. You should never change for anyone else.”
Mariah beams. “Spoken like a true wannabe psychologist.”
I grin back at her. “Damn straight, girlfriend.”
Her expression softens. “Becky was all over him again last night.”
I grit my teeth, pushing my half-eaten plate away. “I don’t have a violent streak, but she makes me wish I did. That girl pushes all my buttons.”
“You and half the school.” Mariah shoots me a sympathetic look. “He pushed her away again. Devin is a lot of things, but he’s a loyal friend.”
“I know, but it grates on my nerves that she keeps trying with him. And I know the reason she persists is to wind me up.” For the last two years, Becky Carmichael has been a major pain in my butt. Besides my friendship with the guys, I don’t know what I’ve done to earn her attention and her wrath. She goes out of her way to try to make my life miserable. Most of the time, I refuse to let her bitchiness get to me, but sometimes it’s hard to rise above it. I thought once you stood up to bullies they eventually backed down. Not Becky; it seems to spur her on.
“She’s a loser, and everyone knows it. You only have to put up with her for eight more months. How bad can it be?”
Mom is in the kitchen, yawning over a steaming mug of coffee, when I return home. “You’re up early,” I remark, bounding into the room and kissing her enthusiastically on the cheek. She smells like vanilla and strawberries, and it’s wonderfully comforting.
“By some miracle, the hospital was quiet last night, so I got to leave a few hours early.”
“You still look tired. You should go back to bed.” Dark shadows linger under her eyes, and she looks paler than usual. Mom has that delicate, porcelain-type skin. Perfectly flawless but it can leave her looking a little washed out at times.
“I want to spend some time with you. We see so little of one another these days.” There’s no word of a lie in that statement. Since ownership of the hospital changed six months ago, Mom works the night shifts now—three days on, two days off—so we are like passing ships in the night. She is usually sleeping during the day while I’m at school, and then I have study or work on the evenings she is off. It sucks, but as a single-parent family, it’s a necessity. Thank God, she had the foresight to negotiate a college fund for me in the divorce settlement or she’d probably be working herself into an early grave.
“I’m up for that. What would you like to do?”
“I thought we could take the boat out on the lake? If we wrap up nice and warm, it won’t be too cold.”
“Sounds lovely, if you’re sure you’re up to it? I don’t mind lazing about here if you’re tired.”
She smiles, mussing up my hair. “I’m never too tired for you, kiddo.”
I wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. So, so much.” Her lips press the top of my head, and I sigh contentedly.
Although I had periods, when I was younger, when I really missed having a dad in my life, I’ve long since gotten over that. Mainly because Mom is amazing, and we have a great relationship. It helped that she told me the truth when I was old enough to handle it. Now, I’m glad I don’t know my father or his stuck-up wealthy family who have made no effort to keep in touch either. I have zero plans to ever set eyes on the rich financier or his family.
Ayden’s dad, Carl, has been like a surrogate dad to me over the years. And Mom is the most awesome mother on the planet, so, between the two of them, I don’t really feel like I’ve missed out on anything. Family comes in all shapes and sizes these days. Mine works, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
An hour later, we are both freezing our asses off on Clear Lake. There are no other idiots out here today, so the water is placid, the surroundings eerily quiet except for the gentle hum of the boat’s engine and the odd bird chirruping overhead. A twinge of grief hits me in the chest, like it does every time we take Grandpa’s boat out. It’s been three years since he passed, and I still miss him so much. Watching Mom grieve her last parent was tough to bear witness to. Because of her unsocial working hours, Mom doesn’t have a lot of friends either. She had no one to lean on, and while she tried her best to shield it, she couldn’t disguise the utter torment she was going through. I’ll never forget how helpless I felt. And how much it strengthened my resolve in relation to my planned psychologist career. I want to be able to help people deal with their issues. To know I’m giving something back.
Mom looks sad, and I know her mind has gone there too. Little wisps of her blonde hair escape her hat, blowing across her unlined face, but she doesn’t even notice. Time to drag both of us out of our despondent state. “What was it you said about it not being too cold?” I ask, my teeth chattering. “It’s almost Baltic out here.”
