Page 46 of Lonesome Moon

“It’s pretty here, but it’s so cold,” Mom said, stirring sugar into her coffee.

“Have you been warm enough at night?”

“Oh yes, don’t worry about that. The down comforter kept me nice and cozy.”

I sipped from my coffee mug with the ranch logo etched into the side.

“Did you have fun at the cooking lesson?” Mom asked.

“I did. You?”

“Yes, although I found it funny—all those years I dreaded fixing meals—and there I was in a cooking class.”

“It’s different once you don’t have to count every penny,” I said.

“I still hold my breath in the grocery checkout line, wondering if my debit card will go through.”

“PTSD. Do you remember that time you forgot the chicken in the car and it spoiled?”

“Oh yes, I remember. I cried for an hour over that,” my mother said.

“I’m sorry it was so hard back then.”

“It’s behind us now.” She set her cup on the table, turning to face me. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go for it,” I said.

“At the cooking class, you and Grant seemed … well, close. And June noticed it too before you accuse me of making things up.”

“Noticed what exactly?”

“The way you two are when you’re together. As if no one else is in the room.”

“Oh.” Was that true?

The memory of what he’d confessed last night in my bed surfaced, playing between my ears.

You’re all I’ve wanted since that Thanksgiving we spent together. Maybe even before then. Honestly, I can’t remember a time I didn’t love you.

“What is it?” she asked, her forehead creasing. “Something’s going on with you. I’m your mother. You can tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? I won’t judge. Or lecture.”

“I can’t because of Jack.”

“You don’t want Jack to know you have feelings for Grant.”

I looked outside, seeing Finley and Sammie walking together on the snow-cleared path toward the barn.

“Honey, is that it?” she asked.

“Mom, this whole thing’s impossible. Just forget about it.”

“Unlikely.”

I sighed but didn’t answer.