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“Alright, I gotta go,” Scott said reluctantly, and Dahlia unwrapped her arms from around his waist, then stepped back to let him push away from the counter.
He smoothed a hand over her light hair as he passed by, and she smiled softly, swatting at his butt as he started for the back door. Once he was gone, however, she closed her eyes, bowed her head, and pressed a fist into her stomach until tears slid down her cheeks.
“Everything’s going to be just fine,” she repeated under her breath before she straightened and shook off the mood, wiping her cheeks and straightening her shoulders.
Then she got to work too, cleaning up the dishes in the sink by hand before digging out a Crock Pot from the cabinets.
I don’t know why I lingered with her. Maybe I didn’t want her to be alone. Maybe I admired her bravery as she pushed through her pain and worry. Maybe it was because I’d just talked to Hayes, and I knew this woman had tragically lost him. She would understand my grief over losing Kinsey.
As she pulled frozen vegetables and meats from the freezer, I stayed, watching her quietly.
She’d just loaded her arms with spices to season her meal when a knock came on the back door.
“It’s open,” she called, glancing over to see who was visiting.
A Michael B. Jordan look-alike stepped inside, and Dahlia greeted him with a tired smile. “Hey, Thane.”
“Morning, Mrs. Union,” he replied, shutting the door behind him and wiping his feet on the floor mat. “I was just popping by to check on Fos and see how he’s doing. Is he awake yet?”
“No, I’m sorry, dear. He—” She cut herself off by blinking at him in confusion. “Check on him?” she repeated slowly before tipping her head. “Why would you need to check on him? Is something wrong?”
Thane immediately cringed. “No. I’m sorry.” He lifted his hand as if asking her to forget that he’d even spoken. “No need to worry. He’s just fine.”
“Then why would you need to check on him?”
When Thane hesitated, Dahlia narrowed her eyes. “Nathaniel,” she said sternly. “If something’s wrong with my son, I’d like to know about it.”
“It’s just…” Poor Thane looked as if he’d swallowed razor blades. “I’m really sorry,” he started again, lifting both his hands this time to excuse himself. “I promise; there’s nothing to worry about. It’s only—this girl from Haverick was in a car accident the other night, is all. And I wanted to make sure he didn’t feel…responsible.”
I sat up in alarm because I was pretty sure Foster would not want his mother to know this particular tidbit of information.
I was tempted to run back and wake him up—warn him what was happening—but I wanted to see how the rest of this conversation played out more.
Dahlia shook her head slowly. “Why would he feel responsible forher?”
“I—”
“I thought he said he didn’t even know Raina Bollen,” Dahlia spoke slowly and cautiously.
“He doesn’t,” Thane assured quickly.
Foster’s mother frowned. “Then why would he have anything to do with her accident?”
“He didn’t. Not at all. It’s just… Our friend, Oaklynn, had been trying to set Raina up with Foster, and when he didn’t show up where we were hanging out that night, she left to go looking for him. And that’s when the drunk driver ran into the car she was in. She was trying to find Foster when she got in the wreck.”
“Oh!” Dahlia covered her mouth with one hand, and her eyes went wide. “Oh no.” A second later, she dropped her fingers. “But that’s not Foster’s fault.”
“No. Of course not, ma’am,” Thane answered patiently. “But I was just worried he might try to blame himself.”
“He didn’t have anything to do with any of that.”
“No, he didn’t,” Thane answered, starting to look a little irritated.
Noticing his reaction, Dahlia blurted, “Look, I know you don’t like me.”
Blinking, Thane pulled back in surprise, clearly not expecting to hearthat. “Ma’am?” he asked, obviously needing an explanation.
“You were there, in all those grief group meetings with Foster, ever since he was ten. You got to listen to him confess his secret thoughts. You heard his point of view about the day Hayes died. And I’m sure he blamed the whole thing on me?—”
