Moonlight's Ambassador (Aileen Travers Book 3)(45)

With her invitation, the invisible force keeping me out disappeared, leaving me free to follow her inside. Despite that, I almost blocked her entrance. Mrs. Bradley watched us with suspicious eyes, not at all convinced we weren't monsters.

"You've given the monster entrance," she said, flicking an angry glance my mother's way.

My mother's laugh was humorless as she headed for Mrs. Bradley's kitchen to put away the groceries that she'd bought. "I can vouch for the fact that my daughter isn't a monster."

Mrs. Bradley didn't take her eyes off me, her hands moving over the poker in her lap. Her preoccupation with that thing had a sinister edge to it, and I made sure to stay close to where my mom made herself busy in the kitchen washing dishes.

"I don't remember her being this odd when I was a child," I said, not taking my eyes off Caroline's mother.

My mom looked up from the cleaning she'd undertaken. The house had an odd, musty smell, and it was easy to tell that the trash hadn't been taken out in a while.

"That's what happens when you're gone for years," my mom said, a hint of disapproval in her tone. "People change, circumstances change."

I ignored the disapproval—it had gotten easier over the years, though it always stung, like a splinter you just couldn't dig out of your hand. She hadn't approved of my decision to join the military, and my lack of focus—her words—since I got out hadn't helped matters.

"Why wouldn't Caroline tell me she was so bad off?"

Mom busied herself scrubbing the counters free of an odd sticky substance. "My guess is she was ashamed and didn't want anyone to know. Her mom's mental state has been deteriorating for a while now. This is a bad day for her. Normally, she's a little better."

"Still."

"You have no one to blame but yourself." Her voice was crisp. "You made it clear when you came back that you wanted to keep a distance between yourself and everyone else. She respected that distance."

I flinched at her words, unable to argue. I had made an effort to keep myself away from everyone, even as I couldn't bring myself to cut off contact entirely. It didn't make it any easier to hear.

"Why are you here, Aileen?" my mom asked after a long moment. Finished putting the groceries away, she rested her hands on the counter and gave me a hard stare.

"Caroline hasn't been answering her phone and wasn't home. I was hoping her mom could help me figure out where she'd gone."

My mom's smile was hard. "Her mom isn't likely to be of help to anyone. Not even herself."

I saw that. This trip was going to result in a dead end.

"I assumed you would be at the facility for longer," she said, not taking her eyes off my face.

I went very still, fighting to keep any expression off my face that might give away my guilt. "They said I was all better and free to go."

I met her eyes and tried to project sincerity. Unfortunately, this woman had changed my diapers and seen me through my troubled teen years, as well as a short phase in middle school where everything out of my mouth had been a lie. She could smell my fabrications from a mile away with her fine-tuned mom sense.

She arched one eyebrow. "I was under the impression that it was a year-long program."

A year long? What had Liam been trying to pull? And who would have the money to send anyone to a facility the likes of which Liam had pretended to work at? It was the type of place only the filthy rich would have been able to afford. Something I was decidedly not, and neither were my parents.

"I guess I wasn't as bad off as everyone assumed." This was true, since I had neither PTSD nor an alcohol problem. My issues were of a more permanent nature, but tell that to my mom.

"You didn't go, did you?" she asked, her voice flat.

Damn. She was like a lie-sniffing dog.

"I can't believe this, Aileen." She slammed the rag in her hand down in the sink. "How could you do this?"

"Me? I'm not the one who ambushed their daughter and accused her of being mentally unstable and an alcoholic. Neither of which have any merit."

"Don't you lie to me," she snapped back, her voice ugly as her eyes flashed. "You know you're not right."

My chest heaved at the unfairness of that statement. "I’m different than I was before, yes. That doesn’t mean there’s something inherently wrong with me. Just because I don't do what you want doesn’t mean I'm flawed. It means I'm an adult capable of making my own decisions."

"Bullshit. I'm your mother. I know when something is wrong." She pointed a finger at me.

I turned away and took a deep breath. Mustn't lose my temper and chance showing her what that something wrong was. I had a feeling she'd prefer an alcoholic over a vampire.

When I spoke again, my voice was level. "I have a stable job and an apartment. I even have friends." Granted, they were odd friends, and not the sort you let around your family. "It's not like I'm homeless, living on a street and unable to function in society."

"Aileen." Her voice turned pleading. Next, she’d turn on the waterworks. I loved my mother, but she was as manipulative as the day was long.

I hardened my heart. If I let her continue, she would find a way to turn this around until even I thought I might have a problem. I couldn't let her do that, especially in light of all the issues I was already dealing with.