“Won’t be here long?” my mom cuts in, sounding genuinely sad.
Georgia shakes her head. “My contract’s only for six months, unfortunately.”
I scoff. She’s probably just here on some city-girl vacation, chasing her Pinterest dream of touching real grass. We get tourists like that every summer—roll in for the season, then disappear before the first snow hits the ground.
“Well, you should come out to the farm sometime soon, then,” Mom coos. “The wildflowers will be blooming soon. Not something you wanna miss.”
My stomach drops. What the fuck is she doing?
“Farm?” Georgia repeats, tilting her head.
“Been in the Archer family over a hundred years,” Mom says proudly. “Out past the ridge. We farm honey, wild flowers, and wheat in the summer. You can even feed the animals. Do you like animals, Georgia?”
“You’d hate them,” I cut in, tugging my hat off. I grip my hair, yank on it, and shove my hat back on. “They’re big, dirty and smelly.”
“What, like you?” she fires right back, then pauses to pointedly sniff me. “At least you’re sober today.”
I step forward, my hackles higher than corn in the summer. “Look. If you—”
“Do you knit?” Mom interrupts, shoving me back.
Georgia laughs, the sound so soft, it curls around me. “No, but I’ve always wanted to learn.”
“Well, that settles it.” Mom grabs her hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You can come to our knitting club. Everyone’s inside.”
I gawk. “I thought only members were allowed!”
Mom waves me off. “I meantyou’renot allowed.”
What. The. Fuck.
Georgia opens her mouth, likely to accept the invitation and destroy what’s left of my sanity, but to my shock, she pulls her hand back gently.
“Unfortunately, I can’t. I have to work.”
“What did you say you do for work, dear?”
I freeze.
Georgia hesitates just long enough to make my pulse spike. “I’m a social worker.”
“How did you two meet?” Mom frowns slightly, eyes flicking between us. “Kade barely leaves his crap-hole. Not many places to run into a sweet girl like you when he’s dealing with the termites and all.”
Panic flares, too hard and fast to even defend myself.
“If you have to work,” I cut in, my tone bordering on feral, “maybe you should go do that.” Jaw pulsing, I grit, “Now.”
Don’t say it. My stare begs her.Please, don’t tell her.
Her lips curve up in a grin so smug it should be illegal.
She opens her mouth again and turns her full body to face my meddling mother.
I lunge.
It’s all instinct and my dwindling will to survive that propels me into action. I wrap a hand around Georgia Walker’s annoying, big mouth, dragging her into my chest, and start to haul her away.
I’m gentle—aware enough to avoid getting arrested, but also crazed enough to toss her over my shoulder if she starts to struggle.
