She smiled softly.“We’re glad you did.Both reasons.”Her eyes searched mine, gentle but probing.“How are you, honey?”
The automatic “fine” rose in my throat, but I caught it.“Tired.A little embarrassed.But glad to be here.”
“Coming home isn’t failure,” she said firmly.“You lasted fourteen years in one of the toughest cities in the country.That’s not nothing.”
“Doesn’t feel like much,” I admitted.“I wanted to make it.I wanted… more.Instead, I got tolls, tickets, and ramen.”
“You got experience,” she countered.“And you got back here.That’s worth something.”
I smiled faintly, because I knew she meant it.Mom never tried to gloss over things.She just handed you the truth in a way you could hold onto.
She studied me again and tilted her head.“Do you know what you want to do next?”
“Short term?Work.Save.Figure out what’s next.Long term…” I shrugged.“Something that feels like mine.Not just a treadmill I can’t get off.”
“The Social Club’s a good place to start,” she said.“Not forever.But steady.”
I groaned and threw myself back against the cushions.“The Lord’s Social Club.Slinging beers, babysitting cornhole tournaments, and making sure no one throws an axe at the wrong target.”
She chuckled.“Better than toll roads.”
“Barely.”
Her smile softened, and her hand brushed my arm.“You’ll figure it out.You always do.”
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked.Slayer, no doubt, prowling the kitchen and pretending he wasn’t listening.She leaned closer and brushed a stray strand of hair out of my face.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said.“Not just fine-okay.The good kind of okay.”
I swallowed hard.“I want that.”
“You’ll get it.”Her certainty was like a blanket heavier than the one around my legs.
I leaned into her shoulder for just a moment, and the scent of cinnamon and laundry soap wrapped around me like it had when I was twelve and scared out of my skin.Back then, my aunt had marched me up the clubhouse steps, handed me off to a stunned Slayer, and told him I was his.I hadn’t known what to expect.A biker with calloused hands and a rough voice didn’t exactly scream “dad material.”But Slayer had stayed, fumbling and trying, and then Wendy had appeared.Steady and soft, giving me space to figure out how to belong.
And now here I was, back again, not a scared kid this time, but a woman who needed to find her footing all over again.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.
She pressed a kiss to my temple.“You’ll be better than fine.”
And for the first time in a long while, I almost believed it.
I leaned against her for a moment longer, then straightened and pulled the blanket off my lap.“Guess I should probably make myself presentable before Dad comes down here asking if I’m planning on moving in permanently.”
Mom grinned.“You could.We’d take you.”
“I know.”I smiled back, heart squeezing.“But I need to get my feet under me.Working at the Social Club will help, even if I’d rather chew glass some days.”
“It’ll be good for you,” she said.“Busy place.No time to wallow.”
I drained the rest of my tea and set the mug back on the tray.“Then I’d better not show up late on my first day.”
“Good plan.”She patted my knee before standing.“I’ll keep Slayer out of your hair so you can shower in peace.If he gets in here, he’ll talk your ear off about how he used to run the pool table like a shark.”
I laughed as she climbed the stairs and her footsteps faded overhead.The basement went quiet again, but not the lonely kind.
I padded into the bathroom and flipped on the light.Bright, clean, and simple, like everything else down here.I studied myself in the mirror.My hair was a mess with blonde strands sticking out in every direction.My eyes were tired, but not hopeless.My reflection didn’t look like the hotshot I’d wanted to become in Chicago.But it didn’t look broken, either.Just… ready.
