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Kyle steps in behind her and shuts the door.
Mom opens her arms and I run into them, rest my cheek on her red, fluffy robe, inhale peaches and the faint smell of her coconut lotion.
"What happened?" I slip out of her arms and show her my forearm. She immediately looks at Kyle. "Who did this?"
Her name is on the tip of my tongue, but it feels like betrayal. To say it out loud.
"My mom," Kyle answers for me.
Mom's fingers slide over the bruising, and she lets out a resigned breath. "Why did she do this?"
"She saw us," I manage to get out. "In the hot tub."
Mom stares down at the bruise, the nail marks, and then drops my arm. I don't know what she's thinking, but I know that look in her hazel eyes. She's pissed. And hell hath no fury like Lainey Kearns when someone's hurt her child.
In fourth grade, Trina McGregor tipped over my diorama of the Grand Canyon and then smashed it beneath her stupid pink boot. When Mom found out, she sent a heavily worded email to the Superintendent, Principal, Vice Principal, and our teacher explaining what happens when children are bullied and why it's imperative that bullies like Trina are given the maximum punishment to deter similar behavior in the future. At the time, I highly doubted that was accurate, but Mom managed to get Trina's lunchtime detention turned into a five-day suspension, so who was I to argue?
"I'll take care of this," Mom assures Kyle and I as she tucks a strand of damp blond hair behind my ear.
"That's not all," I hear Kyle say behind us.
Mom motions for us to sit on the bed while she takes a seat across from us on Audra's. "What do you mean?"
My hand finds Kyle's clammy one and we lock fingers as he starts telling Mom what he told me. About his mom forgetting where he is, thinking Matt's still in high school, asking him what he wants for dinner.
"It's like she's lost all sense of time or something," he shakes his head, confused and perplexed and exhausted.
Mom worries her bottom lip in her mouth and stares down at the grey-carpeted floor. "I wasn't going to say anything, but I saw something odd last week."
"What did you see?" Kyle's body tenses beside me. I rub my thumb over the back of his hand in soothing circles, but it does nothing to ease the tension in the room.
Mom stands and starts pacing in front of us. "I didn't say anything, but it's because I thought she was having a moment. She's been stressed about this case. A rapist who murdered his stepdaughter." She pauses and chews on her fingernail. "She was vacuuming the driveway."
"She was what?" Kyle asks in disbelief.
"She was out there vacuuming the driveway at seven at night. I just thought she was drunk. I didn't think it could be something more serious," Mom explains. "We need to tell Randy."
Kyle nods in agreement. "But not tonight. Let's wait until we get back. We can tell him tomorrow evening. I'll check with Matt and see if he's noticed any unusual behavior."
Mom sits beside me, so I'm sandwiched between her and Kyle. "Are you alright?"
"I..." I honestly don't know. My arm hurts, but I'm worried about Diane. I know I shouldn't be after she assaulted me, but I am. Something is really wrong and I'm afraid for her, for Kyle.
"Let's get some sleep," Mom tiredly exhales. "We have a long flight tomorrow and an even longer evening ahead of us."
She goes to stand, but I grip her arm. "I don't want to sleep alone."
Mom looks over at Kyle before she nods her head. "Dad can sleep on the couch. You can sleep with me."
Kyle stands and helps me to my feet. "Can Jenny and I have a second, Lainey?"
"I'll tell Dad what's going on," she says as she heads out the door, leaving us alone once again.
His arms find my waist and he draws me into him. We stand there in silence for a while as his breath falls from his lips in heavy pants, his heart pounds against my ear and his back muscles tense. I've never seen Kyle angry before, but I'm pretty sure he is right now.
"I'm so sorry." His voice cracks, like there's too much emotion clogging his throat and he's trying to shove it back down.
"It's fine," I tell him as I snuggle into his warm chest, wishing I could sleep with him. Spend all night with his arms around me.
