Don't Let Go(61)

I did a miniscule head shake to let her know that wasn’t on the table, and her face relaxed. She picked up my forgotten biscuit can and her gaze fell on Seth’s photos.
“You making biscuits?”
“Sure,” I said, turning on the oven.
Becca picked up a picture of Seth holding a puppy. “Hey, Dad, while you’re here, can you help me make a giant snowflake?” she asked.
Hayden blinked. “As in—”
“As in there’s a big piece of plywood in the garage I can use, and your jigsaw is here, and—”
“Boy, do you have good timing,” I said, smirking at him.
“Why do you need a snowflake?” he asked, his eyes going back and forth between us. “Oh, don’t tell me.”
“I’m helping with a float for the parade,” she said.
“Oh, thank God,” he said, giving me a look. “I thought for a second there your mom had crossed over to the dark side.”
“Ha.”
Becca grinned and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. It was kind of normal again. Or at least a new version of it.

? ? ?

It did my heart good to see Hayden and Becca work on something together and bicker over the details like they used to. Who would do the cutting and what exactly the design would be, and whether one side matched the other. I really didn’t think anyone would be measuring as it rolled down the street, but they didn’t want my input.
Two hours later Hayden emerged, dusted with sawdust. “Well, I wasn’t planning on staying this long so I have to go,” Hayden said, fishing keys from his pocket. “But I’ll be back later to help her finish.”
“Thank you,” I said. I knew, even with his complaining and groaning, that he secretly loved doing all of that with Becca. Kept him in the family, made him feel needed, and I didn’t have to do it. Double score.
“You’re welcome.” He turned to go and then turned back. “Later, Bec!”
“Bye!”
She’d already flopped on the couch with a book.
“You do have some white paint and some glitter or something, right?” he asked.
I bit my lip. “Umm, doubtful.”
“Never mind,” he said under his breath, taking the steps two at a time. He paused at the bottom and turned back around again. “Be careful, Jules,” he said. “Whatever happens with Ryan—just, don’t get hurt, okay?”
Probably too late for that.
I lowered to sit on the steps after he left. It was nice out—cold, but nice. Sunny, blue sky and rare, non-muggy air. Nice enough to leave the door open for a bit, and Harley took the bait. I heard her toenails on the wood as she slid into a prone position next to me.
“Hey, Harley-bear,” I whispered, sliding my fingers into the soft fur at her neck. She instantly rolled to one side, probably figuring I was a sure thing for a belly rub.
I was pretty much a sure thing for anything not requiring thought. My brain, heart, and everything in between was fried. I would be strong and resilient and firm of resolve tomorrow. And every other day after that, as I watched Noah and Shayna embark on a life together with their new family, all up in my carefully crafted and protected world. I would be okay. I now had pictures of my son to help—and hurt—me. And a new reason to despise Noah’s dad. I couldn’t even think about my mother. My mind wouldn’t let me go there yet, and that was okay, too. I probably didn’t need to hate her, and right at that moment I couldn’t make that promise.
Tomorrow. I’d put my walls back up tomorrow. They’d been with me for two decades, so one day of Noah yanking them down didn’t scatter them too badly. I’d rebuild. Be a hard-ass again and never let anyone close enough to threaten that. Ever again.
Tomorrow.
“Can we go get some paint?” Becca said, padding outside in socks, still in her sleep clothes. She crossed her feet and landed Indian style next to me, leaning over to bury her face in Harley’s neck.
I ran two fingers under my eyes, not realizing I’d teared up again. “Later, okay?” I said, the thought of going anywhere revitalizing my headache. “Or I’ll give you some money and you can go get something. Or you can see what your dad comes back with?”
I saw her slump a little. “Okay.”
Mother of the year. I was mother of the freaking year.
“I think I’m going to take a little walk down to Nana Mae’s for a bit,” I said. “Want to come?”
Becca shook her head and stretched. “No, thanks. That cat stalks me, I swear.”
“Yeah, Maddy is a little unique, that’s for sure.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Isn’t Mr. Ryan’s house on that same street?”
I looked away, unwilling to cop to thinking the very same thing. “No, it’s the one before. But I’m going the long way.”
After scooping up all the Seth pictures from the kitchen, I put them in a big envelope and slipped on some sneakers.
“Wanna go to Nana Mae’s, Harley?” I said, making her stop mid-step toward her doggie door and look at me. After a second’s pause, she turned and went on through. She didn’t like Maddy either.
It was faster to go down Johnny Mack’s street, since Nana Mae was on the far corner of the next one, but I refused. I power-walked past it without even looking sideways, and then strolled up the next street to her house. She was outside crawling in her flower beds, in winter when there were no flowers, in bright orange yoga pants and a long-sleeved University of Texas T-shirt. Only my eighty-five-year-old Nana Mae.