Page 19 of The Lunatics

“You can use mine to text her,” Mom said, sliding it toward me.

“Thank you.”

I picked it up and unlocked it, my fingers hovering over the screen. What the hell did I say? How did I condense the enormity of what had happened down into a text message?

I settled for something vague.Gia, this is Layla on Mom’s phone. Hope you and Natalie had a good night and everything went smoothly with your mom. Michael and I are working through this. I’m heading down to Boston with him today.

Her response was immediate.Thank the Goddess you’re okay. We’re good, too. Mom is over the moon. So is Natalie’s family. Please call me when you can.

I will, I told her.Love you.

Love you back.

Breakfast went by in a blur. I was too busy inhaling my pancakes to talk much. What conversation my parents made withMichael he answered with polite responses and inquiries of his own. It was all very civil, but I was dying to know what Mom and Dad really thought of him. Did they think he lived up to his reputation? That he was arrogant? A snob? He certainly came off that way, and for some reason worked hard to maintain that persona, but even after the short time we’d spent together I knew there was more to him than that.

I headed upstairs afterward to pack.

“Do you need help?” Michael asked.

“Thank you, but no,” I told him. “Mom and I should be fine.”

She cranked the radio in my bedroom the second we stepped inside. Classic rock blared out from the speakers.

I turned to her in surprise and was pulled into a rib-cracking hug. “Oof, Mom.”

“You know you can come back here whenever you want to,” she told me, her words muffled by the music. “And I am always just a phone call away when it gets hard.”

“I know. Please stop strangling me.”

She let me go. “How are you doing, really?”

“I’m hanging in there,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, this is a terrible situation, but the Goddess must have intervened for a reason, right?”

Mom nodded, her expression troubled. “About that. Just… be careful down there.”

“I will,” I said. “And hey, at least you won’t have to worry about me too much, what with me being damn near indestructible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re tough, not immortal.” Her gaze went to the door and she dropped her voice to a near whisper. “Did you tell him?”

I shook my head. “I can’t yet. He’s old enough to remember the stories. I need him to trust me first, so he doesn’t react badly.”

Mom nodded. “That’s smart. How are your emotions? Your anger?”

“Manageable,” I said. “Nothing overwhelming.”

“Good. You’ll do something if that changes, right?”

“I will.”

Her expression shifted then, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that I’d learned to be wary of long ago. That distrust only deepened when she waggled her brows at me. “I noticed you both slept out there. What’s that saying? Gentleman in the street…?”

“Will you lower your voice?” I said, on the verge of panic.

She grinned wider, waiting for an answer. Her silence seemed like a threat.

“Nothing happened,” I said. “We talked. A lot. And then fell asleep fully clothed on top of the covers.”

“Ooh, kinky.”