Page 18 of Heal Me, Love Me

“Sit. I’ll get it.”

“I can get it.”

“I know you can.” She turned back to the stove and flipped the bacon. “Sit anyway.”

Arguing with Mom before eight in the morning was a losing battle. I’d learned that somewhere between my childhood and basic training.

I sat in the chair I’d used growing up at the kitchen table, facing the backyard through the window above the sink. Except this time, my phone was off, my bags were in my old room, and I had no plan beyond getting through breakfast.

Mom set a mug in front of me. Black coffee, no sugar, no creamer.

I glanced up. “Thank you.”

I wrapped my hand around the mug but didn’t take a drink. The heat against my palm gave me something to focus on.

She went back to cooking as if it were any other normal morning. Like I hadn’t shown up last night and finally told her the truth about me, about Keaton, about the part of my life I’d kept locked down for years.

For a few minutes, I listened to the sound of bacon popping. Then she brought a plate to the table and set it in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast, and sliced fruit, because no matter how old I got, Mom was still going to make sure I ate something decent.

“Eat.”

I picked up the fork. The first bite tasted good, even though I still didn’t have much of an appetite after going so long without eating.

Mom watched me for a moment, then looked into her mug. “How much sleep did you get?”

“Enough.”

“Did you turn your phone back on?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“Eventually.”

“That could mean after breakfast or next Christmas.”

I cut the eggs with the edge of my fork, making smaller pieces than necessary. “If you’re going to tell me I need to call him, don’t.”

“I wasn’t.”

That made me look at her, and she held my gaze. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear anything he has to say.”

“I know what he has to say.”

“No, you don’t.” She took a sip of coffee, calm as ever. “You know what you saw. That’s not always the same.”

I set the fork down. “Devon kissed him.”

“Yes.”

“Keaton didn’t push him off.”

“Did he kiss Devon back?”

Dad had asked me the same question the night before. Hearing it again didn’t make me like it any better.

I didn’t answer her, and she continued. “No. You saw enough to hurt you, and then you left before you could see anything else.”