The Row(58)

Me, the girl who lies to him at the mall, who drunk-texts him in the park, and the daughter in a family that does nothing but hurt each other.

Mama watches Jordan with bleary eyes and blinks a few times before jerking her mug out of his hands. “You. Why are you here?” she snarls.

Jordan stops moving, looking from her to me in confusion.

Coming forward in his place, I take the mug and put it in the sink. Mama’s eyes never leave Jordan. They’re filled with pure hatred that I’ve never seen on her before.

After a few seconds, the hatred fades to confusion and she slowly climbs to her feet, using me to balance like some piece of furniture that she doesn’t actually see.

“You … you’re too young.” She takes a step backward, but when I try to pull her into her kitchen chair, she won’t move any closer.

Releasing her, I sigh and move over to Jordan. I do the only thing I can think of to show her that he isn’t a threat and he isn’t his father, like she appears to think. I stand next to him, and then slip my hand into his. He jerks his head toward me in surprise but then tightens his grip. The warmth and feel of his hand around mine seem to lend me the strength I need.

“I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t Detective—or Chief—Vega. This is Jordan, his son. He’s a friend.”

Mama glares, looking from Jordan to me. I feel Jordan’s eyes on me, too, and he moves his thumb softly over the back of my hand.

“I need a drink,” Mama finally groans before shuffling around us to take her seat at the table.

“I think that’s probably the last thing you need,” I reply softly, and she whips her eyes up to me. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she has a chance, I cut her off. “Mama, what’s going on? Why are you home? Why are you drinking?”

Her cheeks flush and I see the emotions on her face start with anger and morph into remorse and guilt. Mama’s voice cracks when she whispers, “Riley, I got fired today.”

“What?” Her words don’t make sense. “Why?”

I grip Jordan’s hand tighter and we take seats at the table with her. I sit next to Mama, trying to understand how this could’ve happened. Yes, Mama has lost jobs before, but this one seemed so steady. She’s been there for a while and she works so hard. How could she have been fired?

“I’ve been missing a lot of work lately. When I should’ve been at the office, I’ve been meeting with Mr. Masters or Stacia to ask questions. I even went to talk to Vega.” She puts her head down on her arms. “I hoped I could make him see, but all he would say was that he was looking into it. I know what this has been doing to you, Riley, and I wanted to find a way to make it easier on you somehow, but instead I’ve lost my job … again.”

Then I reach down and lift the towel so I can see the contents of the box beside her. It holds pictures of the two of us, a purple stapler, a file of papers, and a silver nameplate from her desk.

I curse quietly and release Jordan’s hand so I can hug her.

“Language, young lady,” Mama snaps before wrapping her arms tight around me. In that moment, she looks more like herself than she has since the day Valynne Kemp was killed—and I’m surprised how incredibly relieved I feel to have the real Mama back, for however long she stays. When she pulls away, she looks like she’s composed herself a bit, but I still see tears in her eyes as they flit over to Jordan. “If you know who he is, why is he here?”

“He knows, Mama,” I reply clearly. She can make me feel bad about anything else she wants, but I will not let her make me feel bad about the only person I’ve ever let get close to me. “That night I was drunk, I told him about Daddy confessing.”

“I haven’t told a soul,” Jordan jumps in quickly, trying to reassure her.

Mama stares at me in shock like my words caused her physical pain. Then she scowls menacingly at Jordan. “And what’s he making you pay to keep this secret?”

Jordan’s muscles stiffen beside me and I rush to his defense. “Nothing, Mama! He’s not like that. He’s been helping me, that’s all.”

Jordan’s voice is slightly darker when he speaks again. “And I’ve decided I’m never going to tell anyone, so you can relax about that.”

I glance over at him, my eyebrows raised.

“It isn’t my secret to tell,” he murmurs, reaching out to squeeze my hand again under the table. I grip it when he starts to move his hand away, weaving my fingers slowly into his. His eyes are on Mama now and they stay there.

“Fine.” Mama folds her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. She is less openly hostile, but she definitely isn’t friendly. “I just hope you don’t suddenly change your mind.”

“I won’t.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for any further questions.

I turn back to Mama, thinking that now, with her guard down, might be the best time to get the answers I need from her. I try to decide on where to start.

I finally spit out the most important question my brain can settle on. “How many secrets do we have, Mama?” I watch her face contort with a bit of fear before settling back to normal.

“What do you mean?” she asks evasively. I remember what Mr. Masters said about her denial. Maybe that’s her go-to stance when facing truths that she can’t handle. She protects herself externally from anything that can hurt her, even if she knows better on the inside.