Mike and I look at one another and then back to my dad, before he puts his truck in drive and squeals off.
Had I known I was going to be arrested for punching the asshole I would have done a whole lot more than I had to make it worth it.
“This may disappear from your record son,” I look up at the rearview mirror to find my father watching me. “But that doesn’t erase it from your momma’s mind too.”
My stomach drops instantly.
“You may wanna prepare yourself for a lecture, maybe a slap to the back of the head. You know all those things a mother offers.”
“Do you think there’s a chance she’ll just let this one slide?”
When he chuckles and offers Mike a sideways glance I know it's impossible.
“She’s already at your place waiting for us.”
“Just take me home with you, hell, take me anywhere. Drop me off at the bus station,” I mumble.
My mother looks sweet, she looks all kind and accepting but damn if she doesn’t have a mean streak. I fear for my safety, and the two assholes in the front seat are loving my turmoil and enjoying my impending doom.
“Do you think I can slip in the back, and she’ll finally give up and go home?”
“The woman’s got a key, boy,” again my heart rate spikes. Why had I ever thought giving her a key was a good idea? “She’s probably sitting on your couch, so she has a clear view of the front and back entrance. She’s not going anywhere.”
As we round the corner and my place comes into view, there stands my mother, with her hands on her hips, staring right at us. She doesn’t even wait for the truck to stop before she is on her way to meet us.
“Lock the doors,” I say, “lock them all.”
“Not a chance,” Mike laughs, opening his door, jumping out to open up the back door and clear the way for Maria Tennison to reach me. He stands behind her, his arms crossed over his chest and a bright smile on his face. When he pulls out his phone and starts recording I know without a doubt every person we hang with will have a copy by sundown.
“You gonna get out, or hide in there like a little boy?” I can’t quite gauge her mood; she doesn’t appear murderous but that could all be part of her plan. She could be stalking her prey, me, I’m the prey. Then the moment I think all is well and she isn’t going to kill me she could attack, and it will all be over.
Slowly I climb out of the truck and the second my feet hit the floor she steps forward and wraps her arms around me, offering me a hug.
“Damn it, I want to be so mad at you right now.” I refuse to relax. “But all I can think about is that creepy man hurting sweet Kyra and all the anger I should feel for you, goes right out the window.”
It's then I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
“Her gran called me and told me everything. Kyra is so upset over it all.” She releases her arms, only to bring her hands to rest on my forearms. “He’s been harassing her for weeks, trying to get her to go out with him.”
“Wait,” I shake my head, confused by her words. “I thought they were together.”
“Oh, Garrett, please, you’ve met Kyra. She’s sweet and that man, he’s awful.” She stares at me, and I am still reeling. “Do you know that there are several charges filed against him all over the county for assault. They can never get him though because he covers his tracks. Just thinking that Kyra could have been the next one on the list makes me sick.”
Me too, I want to say only I can’t form the words.
Month’s I’ve wasted. Months hating that she’d go for a guy like that. Month’s forcing myself to turn my cheek when she walks into a room, or I pass her on the streets.
“Is she alright?” I ask because honestly right now that is all that matters.
“I don’t know, but what I do know is Phil better hope he hides well, because Lily Mae is gunning for him. It’s loaded and ready, sitting on her bedside table.”
Momma smiles but I know she’s telling the truth. Lily Mae doesn’t play around when it comes to Kyra.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Kyra
“Damn it,” I pull my hand back and immediately bring it to my mouth. Sticking my thumb between my lips I suck on it to ease the sting.
“Girl,” Gran leans over my shoulder. “Where are you mittens?” She tsks like she always does, and I can’t even roll my eyes at her because she’s right.
“You are much too young, and those hands are too pretty to be burning and scarring.” She holds out the oven mitts she bought me weeks ago.
“My hands are pretty?” I ask with a laugh, and she offers me a look like I’ve lost my mind.
“That is what I said,” she is biased, and I adore her for it. “My sweet girl, when will you see how perfect you are?”
Attempting to shy away from her comment she moves in to block my path. “Enough of this nonsense where you refuse to believe my words, you are not your momma.”
Reaching out she grips my chin but not because she is mad. It is more to ensure that I see nothing but her. “That mold has been broken with you and I will not stand by and allow you to believe you deserve anything else other than the best.”
She waits until I give her a nod that I’ve heard clearly then she offers me a kiss on the tip of my nose that makes me smile. “Now will you please put on your mittens and protect those hands.”
Lifting my hands I slide one on and then the other giving them a little shake.
“That’s my girl,” She says walking out of the kitchen and into the storage freezer.
After I remove the brownies from the oven I place them on the counter and quickly cut them into the serving squares.
Gran exits the freezer and moves around the kitchen mixing her next batch of goodies while I spend entirely too much time arranging the brownies into some fancy arrangement.
“I’m gonna go add these to the display case, before people start hurrying in for the afternoon rush.”
“Sounds good, just holler if you need me.”
Pushing through the swinging door and moving around Casey, who is our part-time employee, I start adding the freshly made brownies to the display case. Once finished I slide the doors shut and start back toward the kitchen.
“Can you put out those two pies sweetheart?” Gran points toward the apple and peach freshly made and cut to serving slices.
“Sure thing,” the cinnamon scent filling my senses as I lift the apple. The sweet sugary aroma of the peach mixes and I lean in breathing it in deeper. I’ve grown up always remembering the lingering smells of something baking whenever I’d go to Gran’s. The smell is something I associate with safety and comfort. A nostalgic feeling hits me every single time I enter Sugarland, because it reminds me that no matter what, Gran was and still is my safe place.
“It doesn’t matter that I am thirty-seven years old and a mother of two, that right there brings back my youth and leaves me feeling a little tingly.” I find Casey fanning her face as she stares out the front window.
I follow her line of sight and immediately my heart begins to race, but for entirely different reasons.