Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,57

Jordan said. “At least not right now. But some ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

We spent the afternoon on the couch, gorging ourselves on pints of ice cream, from cookie dough to Cherry Garcia. According to Jordan, she and her mom had been down and out for so long they splurged on some luxuries now. I savored each bite almost as much as my friends’ company.

I couldn’t believe their friendship was the only real thing in my life when everything else had been fabricated. Their hearts were pure gold, but they still didn’t understand. They were worried about college, boyfriends, their futures supported by their parents. And me? I had no future. No boyfriend. No parents.

I’d spent so long resisting what I didn’t want that I had never thought about what I would do given the freedom to choose. I had no idea what I would study if I somehow managed to secure last-minute college acceptance along with loans or scholarships. My resume was void of work experience to apply at any kind of job, even food service positions. And I’d given a piece of myself to Ronan I couldn’t get back. It was gone, given to someone who’d turned his back on me as easily as my father had.

After Rory, Callie, and Ginger left, I excused myself to their guest bedroom across the hall from Jordan’s room and lay in the bed.

It was a queen, smaller than my California king at home, but I fell asleep faster than I ever had before. Deep sleep welcomed me with open arms, and I leaned into it, letting the blackness consume me.

Thirty-Five

Someone gently nudged me awake. I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping, but it was dark outside, and I felt groggy. I blinked my eyes against the dimly lit room and saw a woman who looked like the older version of Jordan. My mind slowly connected the dots and recognized her as Jordan’s mom.

“Hi, Zara, honey,” she said softly, sitting on the bed next to me.

I blinked slowly. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. I just wanted to let you know that we got your bags from Jordan’s car moved up here. I put them by the bed.” She brushed my hair away from my face in a gesture so purely motherly I nearly broke down in tears.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m here for you, and you can stay here as long as you need.”

“I can help clean,” I said, “I don’t want to be a burden.”

She shushed me and brushed my hair back again. “You are not a burden, sweetie. As far as I’m concerned, you’re another daughter to me. Just call me Mama Junco.”

My eyes stung, and I focused on the golden necklace dangling from her neck so I wouldn’t break down. I could hear the smile in her voice, but she had no idea how much that meant to me. I’d gone years without a mom, having someone hired to be my maternal replacement. In my world where social capital was the only kind that mattered, never had I had someone step up so willingly and care for me with no expectations or strings attached.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. Because part of me felt like if I didn’t have something to give, no one would have anything to give to me.

“Because everyone deserves to have a place they can be themselves without the weight of expectations. Jordan loves you, and that means I do too.” She smiled gently at me. “Now, you should get some rest. I just wanted you to know you had your things.”

“Thank you,” I said again. It seemed like I was having trouble coming up with anything else.

“Good night, honey.”

But when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t sleep, so I got out of bed and went through my remaining possessions. I already knew what I packed, but somehow seeing it, having it in front of me, gave me some comfort. I unzipped my backpack, thankful it at least had all my homework and my computer. And then I opened my duffle bag.

I’d filled it to the brim with practical things like spring and summer clothes, underwear, and then I’d added my makeup off the bathroom counter, some sanitary items, and the two books that had been on my nightstand.

The one on top had come from my father. When We Were Free by Nattie Jones. I flipped it over and read the back-cover copy. Loving him made her free,