The Summer Deal (Wildstone #5)(2)

“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 golden brown. Being a product of Raina’s egg and an unknown sperm donor, Brynn’s skin was a few shades lighter than Raina’s. Unless she was trying not to hyperventilate, of course. Like now. In which case she was probably even whiter than Olive.

“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 gingerroot 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 almond-butter cups for dessert and you love almond-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, with the exception of the times that she’d managed to keep her need a secret. Such as in 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. Sometimes she could admit to herself it was hard to live up to their expectations. And she often didn’t. She tended to skate through life—she knew this. But if she didn’t dig too deep into anything, if she kept her life surface only, it was safe there. Her house of cards 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 headbutt 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 duffel bag for a weekend visit. Thought Long Beach was working out for you? You were substitute teaching and living with Aaron—”

“Ashton,” Brynn corrected, 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. Months. She was really hoping it was a warning sign of an upcoming zombie apocalypse and not a panic attack. When she’d been young, she’d had them a lot. Like every day at summer camp over the course of the nine 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, she could feel one 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.

“You know we love having you.” Raina put her hand over Olive’s when her wife opened her mouth again. “But we also know that you’re a fierce protector of those you love. You’d keel over before worrying us. Something’s wrong.” She softened her voice. “Did . . . something happen?”

Brynn started shoveling in the soup, even though she hated vegan chickpea noodle soup. “Mmm. Yum.”

Olive hadn’t taken her eyes off Brynn. “It was Adam, wasn’t it? Somehow this is all connected to that asshole.”

Brynn pushed her glasses farther up her nose. “Ashton.”

“Whatever. And you only push your glasses up like that when you’re upset.”

“Olive,” Raina said softly. “Back up, give her a little breathing space.” She turned to Brynn. “Honey, you need to exhale.”

This was true. She was holding her breath. She let it out and gasped in some air. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Raina sounded and looked deeply worried. “You’re breathing too heavily and your pulse is racing.”

Right, because she was in the throes of a good old-fashioned panic attack, her first since last month when she’d realized she’d lost her great-grandma’s necklace, the one Olive had told her to take the utmost care of as it wasn’t just of sentimental value, but also worth a small fortune. But that wasn’t the only thing causing this attack. It’d been the unrelenting suspicion that Ashton had taken the necklace.

He’d sworn he hadn’t, and had been so hurt and devastated at the accusation that Brynn had started to doubt herself. Maybe she had really lost it. Now she tried to suck in some more air and failed. “It’s just allergies. I’m fine.”