I couldn’t help but snort. Like anything was ever that easy with her. “You don’t even believe yourself when you say that, you know?”
That had her huffing and retreating all of an inch. “Give me a break and spill the beans. You’re going to tell me at some point anyway,” she let me know, which was the truth.
But…
There were only so many failures I could carry on my shoulders… and most days it felt like I’d hit my max a year ago.
My mom was the one I wanted to protect the most, because she’d been the one to singlehandedly pay for everything while I’d grown up because my dad had thought it was a waste of money, and “isn’t there something else Jasmine can do?” he’d always ask, not knowing she usually had him on speakerphone and my nosey ass was always listening. By the time he’d come around, my mom had told him we didn’t need or want his support… even if it meant there were years where she was constantly behind on bills. Years where looking back on it, I wasn’t sure how the hell she managed to make everything work; how she’d been able to keep a roof over our heads, pay the bills, and keep us fed.
I wasn’t sure I would have been able to do the same. But she’d done it for me. And the only way I’d ever been able to pay her back was by “winning” a couple of second place spots.
I’d never been able to win after I’d moved into the senior level and no one really knew why except for me.
She deserved better, and I wished I could have given her that.
“Jasmineeeee,” Mom playfully whined beside my ear as she snuggled closer to me, ignoring my squawk as she did it. “Just tell me. I know you want to. I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”
“No,” I scoffed, obviously full of shit and knowing she was aware of it. “And you’re a liar.”
“I’m a liar?” she had the balls to ask like she honestly believed her own bullshit about keeping something to herself. I had a big mouth, but I had gotten it from somewhere: her.
“I’m not the one promising to keep a secret,” I insisted with a side glance, trying to give myself some more time to think about what I could say before digging myself into a deeper hole.
Should I tell her? She already knew I was hiding something.
I knew I had her when she made a noise, knowing she was what she was: a big, fat liar. “Fine, but I’ll only tell… one person. Deal?”
“Who?”
She paused. That’s how many people she usually blabbed to. She had to choose. God. “Ben.”
Her husband, Number Four. I could only see her red hair out of the corner of my eye, but I knew that was as good as I was going to get. She wasn’t about to let this go. Especially not now that I made it known that I knew she was full of crap.
I sighed. Now or never, right? “I don’t want you to get excited—”
“Oh my God,” she practically exhaled, telling me it was too late.
I rolled my eyes and turned my entire body to the side so I could give her a look. “No, Mom. No. Don’t get excited. I wasn’t even going to say anything—”
“Tell me,” she whispered in a throaty voice that almost made her sound like a possessed kid in a scary movie.
I blinked. “If you promise you’ll never make that voice again.”
My mom groaned and went back to doing her best spider monkey impersonation by smothering me with her arms. “Fine. I promise. Tell me.”
“I….” I paused and slid her a look, trying to pick my words so I could explain what was happening in the most calm, possible way. “Okay. But don’t get excited.”
“I already said I wouldn’t,” she said, but she didn’t even believe it herself.
“I had a meeting—”
“I know. You told me. For what?”
I sighed, shooting her a look she couldn’t see, which I was grateful for because she might smack me if she had. I wasn’t even sure why I’d thought I could keep it to myself. There were only about a handful of things I had ever not told her about and managed to still keep to myself. “Remember Coach Lee?”
Her body stilled. “Yes.”
“Coach Lee asked if I wanted to partner up with Ivan for next season.”
Silence.
She said nothing. Not one single thing. It might have been the first time she’d ever not said something.
I wiggled the shoulder she had her head on, taking in the fact that she still wasn’t moving around or saying anything. “I thought I still had a few years left until you got to that age where you start randomly falling asleep.”
“I should have left you at the fire station,” she threw back without missing a beat, her head not moving from its spot on my shoulder.
Then, she didn’t say anything else.
What the hell was up with that?
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I tipped my head just enough to the side so I could see the top of her head. I wasn’t tall, only five foot three, but my mom was even shorter at an even five feet tall that I was pretty sure she was exaggerating.
“I’m thinking,” she answered, honestly sounding distracted.
God help me. “What are you thinking?”
She still didn’t move. “About what you just said, Grumpy. You dropped that on me like I was ready for it, and I wasn’t. I thought you were finally going to tell me they offered you a coaching position at the LC.”
I made a face even though she couldn’t see me. How did she know about the coaching position? And why hadn’t she said something before?
As if sensing my confusion, she pulled herself upright and angled her body so she could face me. We were pretty much polar opposites of each other, except that our faces were shaped the same, we weren’t tall, and we both had freckles. She had long red hair that had just enough orange in it to look natural, her skin was basically pale, she was slim, beautiful, bossy but likable, smart, lovable… and I was none of those things. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn’t my mom and sisters. And the rest… well, I wasn’t any of those things either, except bossy sometimes.
The point was: she wasn’t excited or overjoyed at this opportunity. Half an hour ago, I would have bet my life she’d be all over it.
But she wasn’t. And I didn’t get why.
“Well?” I drew the word out.
Those dark blue eyes that reminded me of the sapphire in Titanic narrowed, and my mom’s mouth screwed to the side.
I narrowed my eyes at her, screwing my mouth to the side too. “What? Say something.”
She squinted one eye at me.
“I thought you would’ve been excited. What is it?” I asked before a thought barged into my head so unexpectedly it almost stole my breath away. Did she—
I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t think it. I didn’t want to.
But I had to.
Ignoring that awful, uneasy feeling in my belly, I blinked one more time, steeling myself for her response—I could handle it, I would handle it—as I asked in a steady voice I could be proud of even while my hands got clammy, “You don’t think I can do it anymore?”
Sometimes I regretted how brutally honest my mom and I were with each other. She might mince her words for my older sister, Squirt, and every once in a while she might try and word things more pleasantly for the rest of my siblings, but with me, she never had. At least not as far as I could remember.
If she said yes—
Her head snapped up so sharply, it eased the ache that had instantly built in my chest at the idea that she didn’t think I could do it anymore. “Don’t fish for compliments. You’re better than that.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course you can do it. Nobody’s better than you, don’t act like you don’t know that. Sheesh.”
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.
“What I’m thinking,” she emphasized, still squinting that one and only eye, “is that I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”
Umm….
It was my turn to squint at her. “Why?”
She eyed me back. “You said they asked you to be his partner for next season… what does that mean?”
“It means, just for a season.”
That timeless face scrunched up in confusion. “Why only a season?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. All they told me was that Mindy was going to take the season off.” She had always been pretty decent to me. I hoped she was okay.