Page 48 of Teach Me Your Ways

I was pretty sure everyone made a jewelry box covered with shells at some point, assuming they got a chance to visit a beach. But I remembered finding the shells with my dad and keeping them in a jar forever. I also remembered the funky smell. “Did you wash your shells?” I asked Sophie.

“You know we did,” Mom said. “Not making that mistake again.”

I laughed. “Just a little like low tide.”

“Dinner’s almost ready. Sophie, go wash your hands and then set the table.”

I set Sophie down and she scampered off to the bathroom, still chattering about her beach discoveries. Mom looked up from the stove with that knowing smile that mothers perfected—the one that said she could read every emotion crossing my face even when I thought I was hiding them.

“Long day?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“You could say that.” I dropped my bag by the counter and leaned against it, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline that had been carrying me since the pool incident was finally wearing off, leaving me feeling wrung out and confused.

“Everything okay at school?”

“Yeah. Just hot outside,” I lied, grabbing a glass of water from the tap.

“You didn’t say how your diving recertification went,” she said.

“It wasn’t really a re-cert. The professor just wanted to make sure we knew what we were doing.”

She snorted. “You’ve been in the water since you took your first breath.”

I smiled. “We know that, but my professor didn’t.”

“I hope you set him straight.”

I almost choked. “I did. I most definitely did. I’m going to change. Need me to help with anything?”

“Nope. It’s done. I didn’t want to make anything that required too much cooking. This heat is relentless.”

I headed to my room, grateful for a few minutes to myself. My bedroom was stifling despite the window unit cranked on high. I needed the privacy more than the comfort. I quickly pulled on some shorts and a loose T-shirt before heading into the kitchen. Sophie was setting the table while rambling on about painting the shells.

After dinner, we curled up on the couch with a dinosaur book.

“Steggy the Sky Pilot” was Sophie’s new obsession. Historically inaccurate? Yes. Did it feature a stegosaurus flying a biplane while wearing goggles and shouting “Yabba-dabba-fuel up!”? Also yes. But Sophie loved it. Especially because Steggy’s grandma flew with the dinosaur on every mission, which obviously reminded her of Granny. Moments like these were all I needed.

I had my daughter. My mom. My classes. A goal I was working toward. So why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Why did I keep remembering the sounds I made? The feel of his scruffy jaw against my skin? The way his voice had gone low and ragged when he growled my name like it tasted good.

I helped Sophie brush her teeth and tucked her in with two kisses—one for her and one for Steggy—and then padded back to the kitchen, where my mom was just putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

“You good?” she asked, her eyes warm.

I nodded too quickly. “Mmhmm.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” I grabbed my phone from the counter.

“The one that means your contemplating a bad decision.”

“Wow, okay, chill with the mind reading.” I snorted but couldn’t help grinning.

She just raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been you, sweetie. Be safe.”

Moms. Ugh. Was I going to be like that with Sophie? Hell, I already was. There was a special mom power that included mind reading, telepathy, and a lie detector all in one. I walked away before I could start oversharing.

I stood in the hallway outside my room, my heart tap dancing against my ribs. My fingers hovered over the screen for a full minute before I finally caved and typed the words.