Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(99)

Both in their mid-fifties, their similarities stopped there. Olive was pragmatic, stoic, and God help the person who tried to get anything by her. She was perfectly coifed as always, hair up, her pants and blazer fitted, giving her a look of someone who’d just walked out of a Wall Street meeting. In sharp comparison, Raina’s sundress was loose and flowery and flowing, and she wore beads around her neck and wrists that made her jingle pleasantly whenever she moved. She was soft and loving, and quite possibly the kindest soul on earth. And while Olive was economical with her movements, Raina was in constant motion.

Opposites attract . . .

But actually, her moms did have something in common beyond their age—their warm, loving smiles, both directed at Brynn. It was her own personal miracle, that they loved her madly no matter how many times she’d driven them crazy.

And there’d been a lot of times. Too many to count.

“Sweetheart,” Raina said, jewelry indeed jingling, bringing forth welcome memories; growing vegetables in their garden, taking long walks on the beach to chase seagulls, and late night snuggles. Raina opened her arms and Brynn walked right into them, smiling when Olive wrapped her up from behind.

The three of them stood there for a long beat, wrapped up in each other. Catherine The Great Cat wandered in close, her appearance forewarned by the bell around her neck. She might be twelve and seemingly frail and delicate, but as with her moms, looks were deceiving because just beneath Cat’s skin lived a mountain lion. Hence the bell, because she hunted like one. No one blamed her instinctual drive to do this, though Raina greatly objected to Cat dropping “presents” at her feet in the form of cricket heads and various other pieces of dead insects.

Yep, Cat was the most adorable murderer who ever lived, and she rubbed her furry face against Brynn’s ankles exactly twice.

And then bit.

“Ouch!”

“You know her rules,” Olive said. “A little love, a little hate. It’s how she is. Now tell us why you’re home unannounced, looking like something not even Catherine would’ve dragged inside.”

“I think she looks wonderful,” Raina said.

“She hasn’t been sleeping or eating.” Olive’s worried eyes never left Brynn.

“I’ve been eating plenty!”

“Okay, then you aren’t sleeping enough or eating the right food. You’re as pale as . . . well me.”

Olive indeed had the pale skin of her English ancestry. In contrast, Raina was Puerto Rican, and an envious golden brown. Since Brynn had been conceived from Raina’s egg, not Olive’s, along with a sperm donor, her own skin was a few shades lighter than Raina’s. Unless she was trying to not hyperventilate, of course. Like now. In which case she probably was whiter than Olive.

“Okay, we can fix the eating right and sleeping, for a start,” Raina said with determination. She slipped her hand into Brynn’s, and as she’d been doing for as long as Brynn could remember, she took over. She settled Brynn onto the couch with one of her handmade throws, and in less than five minutes had a tray on Brynn’s lap with her famous vegan chickpea noodle soup and steaming ginger root tea.

“Truth serum?” Brynn asked, only half joking. Raina was magic in the kitchen—and at getting people to spill their guts.

“I don’t need truth serum.” Raina sat next to her. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I made peanut butter cups for dessert and you love peanut butter cups.”

“You’d withhold dessert from your only child?”

“She wouldn’t, she’s far too kind,” Olive said. “But I would. In a heartbeat.” She sat on the coffee table facing Brynn. “Talk.”

“How do you know I’ve got anything to talk about?”

“A mom knows.”

This was . . . mostly true. Her moms loved and adored her, they’d never made any secret of that. They’d had her back whenever she’d needed them, except for the times that she’d managed to keep her need a secret. Such as her younger years when she’d been mercilessly bullied for having two moms . . .

She loved them madly but it was a lot of pressure to be their only child, especially given how long and hard they’d fought for the right to have a baby at all. They were both truly amazing, but she could admit it was sometimes hard to live up to their expectations. She could also admit that she often didn’t. She tended to skate through life. If she didn’t dig too deep into anything, if she kept her life surface-only it was safe there. Her glass house couldn’t fall down.

Cat jumped onto her lap and Brynn gave her a long look. “You going to play nice?”

Cat gave her a gentle head butt to the belly, and then tried to put her face in Brynn’s soup. The bowl amplified the raspy, old lady purr so that it sounded like a misfiring engine.

“Welcome home,” Olive said dryly, scooping up Catherine before she got any soup, gently depositing her onto the floor. “Now let’s hear it. Not that we’re not thrilled to see you, but what’s going on? You’ve brought a pretty big duffle bag for a weekend’s visit. Thought Long Beach was working out for you. You were substitute teaching and living with Darren—”

“Dirk,” Brynn said and managed a casual shrug while ignoring the tightness in her chest, the tightness that had been there the whole drive. The whole past week. Maybe months. She was hoping it was a warning sign of an incoming zombie apocalypse and not a panic attack. When she’d been younger, she’d had them a lot. Like every day at summer camp over the course of the twelve years she’d gone, something else she’d managed to keep from her moms. The attacks were infrequent now, but at the thought of the conversation she was going to have to have with her moms, she could feel it building. She’d rather face zombies than worry them. They’d been through enough in their lives. “Just thought I’d come home for a bit,” she finally said.