Page 97 of Under Pressure
I swallow, my eyes pinned on the rim of the shiny silver bowl. Serena sighs and settles at my side again. Instead of reaching into the bowl, she raises a soft hand to my shoulder. It’s a mother’s touch. A soothing, comforting move that immediately has my muscles going loose and emotion barrelling into my chest.
“I’m starting to ramble. What I meant to say was that I hope you see who he really is. I want you to see the good man I raised and not an image strangers have created of him.”
“I do. At first, I didn’t, but I do now.”
She releases a heavy breath. “Good. That’s good.”
“My reluctance doesn’t really have anything to do with him,” I admit tightly, ashamed at how true that statement is.
“No?”
The realization hits me hard, like a punch to the temple. I want to tell her everything I’m thinking. We’re barely more than strangers, and she’s probably the one person who means the most to Beck, but I don’t for a second think that she’d take what I want to share with her and tell him. She loves her son. It almost makes me want to scream with jealousy just how much she does, yet I feel like I can trust her with my feelings. With the pain that I’ve kept buried for so long.
It isn’t her burden to bear, though. None of it is.
“I offered to give you a ride home once, do you remember?” she asks, and the thoughts in my head splinter.
“No. When?”
Her hand doesn’t so much as twitch as she keeps it on myback, anchoring me whether she’s aware of that fact or not. “It was after Beck’s team was rained out back when you were in the . . . eighth grade, I believe, and the lightning was so intense that one of the girls was screaming about being afraid we’d all be struck by it while sitting in the stands.”
I snort, and Serena makes a similar noise before continuing.
“My husband was hurdling the team into the dugout, and I was heading back to our SUV to get a couple of umbrellas when I saw you standing in the parking lot with your sister. You were both soaking wet, but when I asked if you wanted a ride, you said your mom was coming. When the rain let up and I looked for you again, you were getting into a cab. I should have insisted.”
“Callie. My sister’s name is Callie,” I tell her, not ready to touch anything else that she’s said.
Even just knowing how obvious it was to everyone . . . how pathetic I looked as a kid and even as a teenager, is enough to have me wishing I could go back in time and run away with Callie years before I had the nerve to.
“That’s a pretty name. Both of your names are.”
I could cry at how deeply her casual, thoughtless compliment strikes me.
“She’s quite a few years younger than you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Almost seven. She’s in med school now.”
“You must be so proud of her,” she says, voice soft.
My eyes burn as I clear my throat. “Very. She’s worked hard for it.”
Serena’s hand drifts up and down my back now. I press my middle into the counter, sucking in a breath at the cold feel of the marble.
“I suppose she has you to thank for that. Your drive and support. You’ve built something incredible out of Blank Page.”
“You a big coffee drinker?” I choke.
“Oh, thebiggest. Though I’m the only one in the family who enjoys it.”
It’s the first time I’ve had actual confirmation that Beck hates coffee but keeps coming back for it anyway. And something in the way his mom is shaking with silent laughter tells me that she knows what he’s been doing and finds it hilarious.
“I’d be honoured to have you come by the shop. We have the best espresso in the city.”
“Sold.”
I run my eyes over the boxes of ingredients we’ve pulled out and the red beef still sitting untouched in the bowl. My stomach’s uneasy, my appetite gone. If I told her I didn’t want to do this anymore, I know she’d let me go without another word.
My feet are stuck to the floor. I have no desire to leave, even when I lift my foot and shift it over an inch, breaking free of the unease that locked my knees.
