“You’re my girlfriend, so that counts in Mom’s book. If Garrett and Kellan had girlfriends, Mom would also expect them to join us.”
Jess’s honey-brown eyes go adorably wider. “Even if they’ve only been dating a few weeks?”
“Especially if they’ve only been dating a few weeks. How else would she get to check them out to make sure they were good enough for her sons?” I chuckle.
Except what was supposed to be a joke feels like less of one now. Mom’s got to know Jess is nothing like the woman the protesters have been ranting about. Kellan spent three years in prison, and Mom didn’t turn her back on him because he made a mistake. A bad mistake. He was guilty of his crime. Jess wasn’t guilty of what she was accused of. Big. Difference.
Jess looks to where Simone and my mother are standing next to the table. It’s obvious from the way Mom is smiling at Simone, she loves her like a daughter. But Mom has known Simone since Simone was six years old. She doesn’t really know Jess. She has met her two other times, and one of them was only for a few minutes.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I tell Jess. “Mom likes you.” I cross my fingers that hasn’t changed from the last time Jess was here. Until my conversation with Mom a week and a half ago, I hadn’t worried about it. Now, I’m hoping I’m not about to toss my girlfriend into an unexpected war zone.
I take the glass baking dish of dessert squares from Jess, transfer it to my hand holding Butterscotch’s leash, and link my fingers with Jess’s. The temperature outside is warm. Her fingers are cold.
I catch a glimpse of the flower-and-shell tattoo on her forearm. It’s as gorgeous as the woman wearing it. While I question the wisdom of Jess getting it, given she’s trying to move on after losing her daughter, I do understand her reasons. I got inked to keep Colton’s memory alive.
We walk to the picnic table. I let go of Jess’s hand and deposit the dessert with the rest of the food.
“Hey, Jess.” Simone gives her friend a hug and whispers something in Jess’s ear. Jess nods.
And I breathe a little easier. Simone’s friendship with Jess will go a long way with Mom. She trusts Simone. She trusts Simone’s judgment.
“It’s nice to see you again, Joanne,” Jess says to Mom.
Mom smiles at Jess, but it’s the smile she reserves for people she’s not fond of but doesn’t want them to know that. “You too, Jessica.”
Dammit.I hope I’m not making a mistake bringing Jess here, especially after she received the death threat earlier today.
I put my hand on the curve of her spine and tap with my finger the Morse code for ILU. I keep tapping, the message playing on an endless loop. Jess leans into me. I kiss the side of her head.
Mom’s smile doesn’t change. Simone is beaming.
“How was work today, Jess?” Simone’s question comes out a little too brightly. It’s possible I’m not the only one sensing the tension rolling off my mother.
Jess’s muscles tense under my hand, and she shifts on her feet. “Um, it was…”
“Someone left a threatening note for her while she was away at lunch.” I have no intention of sugarcoating the truth or keeping it a secret. Anger still roils inside me at what it said.
“What kind of threatening note?” Kellan’s tone is hard, a thin edge of protectiveness beneath the surface. I didn’t even notice him approach, his Marine-ninja moves deeply ingrained in him. That, or I’m losing my touch.
I turn to him. “It threatened her life if she doesn’t leave town.”
“Did you call Noah?” Simone asks. “Or the police?”
“The police.” Jess wraps her arms around her chest, the fear in her voice twisting inside my heart. “They have the message and are investigating it.” She lifts her shoulders with a small shrug, her trust in the police no less obliterated than before.
Creases form between Mom’s eyebrows. “Any idea who might have left it?”
“It could be any of the protesters who were outside her house,” I say. “Or it could be someone else we haven’t considered.” Like Katelyn. But would she really do something like that just because she wanted to date me when I’m not interested in her?
I have a hard time believing that. She’s selfish enough to spread rumors. She’s not selfish enough to threaten physical harm.
Dad comes over with a plate of grilled hamburger patties and puts it onto the table next to the buns. Melted blue cheese oozes across the top of each one. “Burgers are ready.”
Mom passes a plate to Jess, her hand trembling. “Here you go, Jess.”
Mom has the steadiest hands I know. But it’s not only her hands that shake. She looks…twitchy. Nervous.
And that settles in me the wrong way. “You haven’t heard anything about who might have left that message for Jess, have you?” Almost all emotion is stripped from my tone, other than a slither of anger that hits the last part like a hammer to nail.
