Sheryl started to protest. “This isn’t necessary.”
“Really?” Zoe asked, hating the fact that her mom was skirting around the needed conversation. “You don’t want to talk in private?”
Giving up, Sheryl placed the wet towel on the counter and led Zoe out the back door, away from eyes and ears.
With the grease pit and garbage cans as their backdrop, Zoe gave her mom one more chance.
“What are you doing? Does he have something over you?”
Sheryl wouldn’t look her in the eye. “No, nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Have you ever loved someone, honey?”
This was worse than she thought. “You’re telling me you love that monster?”
“He’s not a monster.”
“He is! You know he is. We didn’t talk about him after he left, but that didn’t make what he did to us less real.” They’d all kept the past in the past, never really talking about all the crap Ziggy brought with him. They slept better and had far less use for Band-Aids and bags of ice for swollen body parts.
“He wasn’t wired for kids, Zoe. You kids were a handful.”
Her mother’s words soaked in. “You’re blaming us.”
“No . . . just. It was hard.”
“So what’s changed? Zanya is still there, Blaze. How long before Ziggy realizes he hates crying babies?”
Sheryl glanced up, only to quickly look away. “Zanya and Mylo are working on getting a place. And your dad doesn’t drink anymore.”
“He is an asshole even without liquor. You know it, I know it. The whole damn town knows it.”
“People can change.”
“You’re right. People can change . . . monsters like Ziggy, not so much.”
Sheryl glared at her now, animosity in her eyes. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But you don’t have to worry about him or me . . . you can just go back to your pampered little life and forget all about us.”
Zoe didn’t think her mother could hurt her more. “My pampered little life?”
With her nose high, Sheryl stared.
“I worked my ass off to get out of this town. To get where I am.” Heat filled Zoe’s face.
“I guess I didn’t do too bad of a job raising you then.”
Her mom wanted credit for the good but couldn’t take any of the blame for her shitty life decisions that affected them all. “What about Zane? Do you take credit for all the times he ended up in juvenile hall? His lack of graduating from high school? What about Zanya? Do you take credit for her falling into your path of premarital baby making without a way to support her son? Do you take credit for that?”
Her mom scowled. “I did the best I could.”
“Sure you did. By staying with the likes of Ziggy, you did your best.” Zoe clenched her fists and did everything she could to keep from yelling. “You know, Mom, I always said there is a statute of limitations on how long a person can blame their parents for their fucked-up life. I took that and fell from my family tree and rolled really far down the hill. You did not make that happen. I did.” She tapped her own chest. “So don’t try and take credit for what I’ve done with my life. If you want to belittle it, fine. But you won’t have an audience with me. I came here hoping you’d have a real explanation as to why you’re falling back in bed with that man. I guess I got it.” And for the first time in Zoe’s adult life, she had nothing more to say to her mother.
Chapter Nineteen
Zoe sat on Luke’s back porch and watched the final rays of sunshine disappear from the sky. She’d heard his motorcycle announce his arrival after he spent a half a day in the shop.
She was leaving in the morning, and while she hated the fact that she was leaving behind a mess, she understood there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it staying in River Bend.
“Zoe?” Luke called from inside the house.
“Out here.”
She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the screen open.
Blue jeans hugged Luke’s hips, and a tight black T-shirt stretched over his chest.
She leaned her head back and puckered her lips.
Luke’s smile was instant before he reached down to accept her offering. He kissed her, pulled a hair away, and said, “I like this.” And then kissed her again.
“How was work?” she asked.
He looked at his hands. “Greasy.”
“Dinner is in twenty minutes, if you want to shower.”
He pretended to smell under his arms. “Is that a hint?”
Zoe reached for one of his palms. “Yep.”
She accepted another kiss before he walked away. “I’m going.”
The water in the shower turned on, and Zoe left her perch on Luke’s back deck to make the salad.
She’d done everything she could to get her mind off her family. And by everything, that meant she’d cooked.
Luke had a vast supply of sealable rubber containers, which she made good use of. She started with tortilla soup and worked her way into making enchiladas that Luke could toss in the oven to cook on another day. She moved from south of the border to West Texas and a recipe she had for chili and beans. Zoe packed that in the freezer with heating directions taped to the lid. She baked three dozen snickerdoodles and finally placed a small pork roast in the oven for that night. Unable to stop herself, she tossed together a plum sauce for the pork and a carrot puree to go over the potatoes. For the first time in what felt like a week, she was hungry.
She opened a bottle of white wine and sipped while she shredded parmesan cheese for the Caesar salad.
Luke slid a hand over her hip when he walked up behind her. His lips touched the side of her neck. “I could get used to this.”
She picked up a crouton, store-bought, unfortunately, and lifted it to Luke’s lips. “I leave in the morning.”
He crunched on the stale bread and grumbled, “I know.”
Zoe missed the heat of him when he walked away and opened his fridge. “What’s all this?”
“I can’t have you hungry while I’m gone.”
He lifted the container holding the soup. “Seriously?”
“I could give it to Mel if you—”
“Hell, no. Mel can get her own.” He set the soup back down, grabbed a beer, and closed the door.
She dusted off her hands and reached for the dressing. “Why don’t you grab us some plates?”
Luke took a swig and turned to the cabinet where the plates once were.
“One over,” she told him.
He gave her a sly smile before he found the plates and put them on his small dining table. They worked together to get the meal on their plates.
She refilled her wine and sat beside him.
“It smells amazing.”
“Not something you’re going to find at Sam’s,” she told him.
He used his fork to cut into the tender meat. Zoe watched as he took his first bite.
Luke did an eye roll and moaned. “Oh, man.”
“Glad you like it.” She took a bite and silently patted herself on the back. She would have liked the tarragon to be fresh, but she did her best with what she had.
Luke filled his fork with the potatoes. “Amazing.”
She picked up her wine to help wash down her bite.
“If we get married, will you cook like this every night?”
Zoe felt the wine stick.