Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(134)

Jase’s grin turned downright wicked. “We will.”

Teresa’s eyes rolled as he all but dragged her out of the door, but at the last moment she sprang free, ran back to where I stood at the threshold, and hugged me again. “I’m glad everything is going to be okay,” she whispered, and then she whirled around on her good leg.

Teresa took off and jumped from the top of the short set of cement steps. Jase, who was at the bottom, cursed as he caught her and staggered back a step. “Jesus, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

She giggled as she wrapped her legs around his waist. When he turned to head to their car, she waved at me over his shoulder. I wiggled my fingers back, thinking they were going to give Cam and Avery a run for their money.

I closed the door and made my way back over to the couch. Kind of tired from spending most of the day with my friends and Jax, I yanked the blanket around me and curled up on the end of the couch. It didn’t take me long to drift off to sleep and I did so, as cheesy as this sounds, on a cloud of happy thoughts.

Today had been good, great even. It had been normal—my new kind of normal—full of laughs, smiles, conversation, and kisses, lots of sweet kisses and then not so sweet. I could get used to this and I would. It would be hard when I went back to Shepherd, but we’d make it work. That cloud of happiness would keep on being all fluffy and awesome.

I didn’t know how long I slept, but I came to, lured out of sleep by the soft sweep of cool fingers along my cheek. Blinking open my eyes, I expected to see Jax beside me, thinking I’d slept longer than I had.

But it wasn’t Jax sitting next to me.

Heart leaping into my throat, I sat up so fast I pulled at the tender skin on the side of my stomach and winced. “Oh my God.”

Mom was here.





Thirty-three


I stared at her for what had to be a freaking hour before I found my ability to speak. “How did you get in here?” I asked, craning my neck to see if Jax was anywhere, but we appeared to be the only two people in the house. Maybe that wasn’t the best question to start with but I was caught off guard, absolutely floored.

She drew away from the couch and stood. That’s when I noticed she was wearing the same clothing I’d last seen her in, and when I inhaled deeply, my heart . . . God, it ached like someone had reached inside and wrapped their fist around it. She smelled like someone who hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in days.

God.

Rubbing her left hand down her right arm, she glanced around. “I let myself in.”

“How?”

“The back door. It has one of those old locks. No dead bolts. I picked it.”

“You . . . you picked a lock?” When she nodded, I just stared at her. “You know how to pick a lock?”

She nodded again as she stopped rubbing her arm. Her hand stayed around the inside of her elbow, though. “Baby, I don’t have—”

“You left me.” Snapping out of my stupor, I rose to my feet as her gaze swung back to me sharply.

Mom blinked rapidly. “I need to tell—”

“I don’t care what you have to tell me.” And that was true. As terrible as it was, it was completely true. “I got shot. Did you realize that?”

“Baby—”

“Stop calling me that!” I shrieked, my hands balling tight. “Answer my question, Mom. Did you realize I’d been shot?”

Her cracked lips opened, but she didn’t speak. Instead she ducked her chin as she started scratching her right arm.

Hurt swelled in my throat like I’d swallowed a bitter pill. I stared at her, my mother, and it was like seeing a ghost. “You knew I’d been shot and you left me in the parking lot, bleeding. I was in the hospital for two days. I had internal bleeding. Do you even care?”

Chin jutting up, her watery gaze met mine for a fraction of a second and then her gaze darted away. “I care about you, Calla. I love you. You’re my daughter. I just . . . I . . .”

“Love getting high more?” A fissured laugh broke out of me. “Story of my life and your life. Drugs have always been more important.”

She didn’t say anything at first and then she said what I knew deep down in my heart she would say. “My babies are gone, Calla. Kevin and Tommy, they—”

“They’re dead!” I shouted as tears pricked at my eyes. Air rattled in my lungs as everything . . . everything came out. “They are dead, Mom. They have been dead for a long time. And you know what else, Dad has been gone for a f*cking long time, too. You’re not the only person in this whole damn world who lost them. And no amount of shit you put in your body is going to bring them back.”

Her legs backpedaled like she could escape what I was saying, but this wasn’t the first time I’d said this to her. But I knew it was going to be the last.

And I was on a roll. Years and years of frustration, disappointment, and hurt balled up inside me, exploding over like a shaken bottle. “You stole from me, Mom. Do you even remember that? You drained my account, racked up over a hundred thousand dollars in debt in my name, and now I have to take out financial aid to finish school!”

Mom flinched.

“Not only that, but you almost got me killed. Like really dead—dead as in I’m totally f*cking dead, Mom.” She recoiled again, but it couldn’t be like this was the first time this crossed her mind. “Clyde had a heart attack because of the people pissed at you who were messing with me. He almost died.”