The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(72)

Johnny’s hand came to rest on my thigh, the warmth of it immediately melting through my jeans.

It gave me strength.

So I shared, “This is probably because he found another woman to beat bloody.”

I saw a flash in his eyes before he hid it and whispered, “Sp?tzchen.”

“My grandfather hated my dad, ordered my mother not to marry him, and she rebelled. She was eighteen, head over heels in love, and pregnant, the last part my grandfather was really not hip on. She took off to be with the love of her life. That’s just the way things go, I guess. Therefore, when Mom took us from him to them, my grandfather closed the door in her face. Apparently, he was that kind of guy. I don’t know. I don’t really remember him and Mom never talked about him. Though from the little I do know, mostly how my grandmother behaved, even though I didn’t know her either, my mom found her father and married him.”

“Fuck,” Johnny clipped.

“My grandmother found us before we had to skip town and gave Mom her milk glass. Told her to sell it. Mom never sold it. It was the only thing she had of her mother. So she kept it. And Gramma would send cash as often as she could but it wasn’t very often. Still, we were so poor, whenever she could, it helped.”

“Izzy,” he whispered.

“Government cheese,” I said.

He leaned into me, his fingers digging in.

“Izzy,” he hissed.

“She worked all the time. She’d find places close to school so Addie and I could walk if she couldn’t take us. Every time we moved when we were young, she’d walk us back and forth, back and forth. ‘Remember this, girls. Don’t go a different route, my queens,’ she’d say. ‘And don’t talk to strangers, not ever. Get yourselves home, fast and safe, and then you call your momma to let her know you’re locked in tight.’”

Johnny said nothing.

“She’d open cans of soup so I could heat them up for Addie and me if I had to make dinner. Soup and cheese sandwiches. Night after night. All I could make but also all she could afford. She’d call to make sure I turned off the stove. I was seven.”

His hand slid up my thigh as he got closer but he said nothing.

“I graduated to grilled cheese sandwiches when I was nine. You like my guac, you should try my grilled cheese. It’s to die for.”

“Don’t make light of this, Izzy,” he said gently.

“We were happy.”

His chin jerked back.

“We had each other, and in the beginning Addie and I only knew she was safer without him so we were in a better place because she was too. When we figured out there was more to have, we’d already learned it didn’t mean anything, so we stayed happy because we had each other. And then she died, and honest to God, Johnny, that was the first time after we left him that I was ever unhappy.”

His eyes dropped down, he shoved my wine aside and he pulled my hand to him.

I was wearing my mother’s charm bracelet again.

“It’s cheap,” I whispered.

He didn’t look up.

“Those charms Addie and I bought her every birthday using some of the money we’d horde that our Gramma would send us for our birthdays. I got the bracelet when we lost her. Addie has the two charms that say ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ and ‘#1 Mom.’ I got her her own bracelet when she had Brooks and gave it to her with them on it.”

His finger fidgeted with the head of a horse charm.

“She made us dance with her in our living room, and she tried to get every Sunday off to do Sunday night facials she’d make out of honey and oatmeal, and she’d take us out to stare at the stars. She made a game out of doing laundry at the Laundromat, and she hid it really well those times rent was coming due but her paycheck wasn’t and we were running low. She was sunlight and moonshine and honey and song and love. And I had her for a while and then God needed her with Him so I had to let her go.”

His eyes turned to me and the pain in them, the pain for me, dug down deep. Deep inside me.

And settled there.

And I wanted it.

I needed it.

It was buried treasure.

“She was iron,” I whispered. “Iron and steel and granite and everything strong packaged up in feathers and goose down and kitten fur and everything soft. She was the most precious gift I’ve ever received and will be until I have my own babies.”

“Stop talking,” he ordered gruffly.

I closed my mouth.

“I can’t erase that,” he stated and the blood started singing in my veins. “I can’t make that better.”

Oh my God.

“Johnny—”

“We fight wars over dirt and oil and ego when we should fight wars against men who force women to live that kind of life with their children.”

“We were happy,” I reminded him.

“You could have been happier,” he said to me.

I again closed my mouth.

Johnny didn’t break the silence so I asked, “Are you done getting to know me now?”

“Now?” he bit out. “Yes. Done? Not by a long shot.”

My blood started burning.

“Do you . . . um . . . do you wanna talk about your mom?” I queried cautiously.

“She left when I was five, Toby was three. He doesn’t remember her. I do. She was amazingly beautiful. And she was down to her soul selfish. I haven’t seen her since. My dad never saw her again either. He also never got over her. I hate that for my dad, but her leaving meant Toby and I got Margot, so we had it better than we would have, I figure. And that’s it.”