Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,35

when you can’t process something, so you tuck it away into a box until your mind is ready to tackle the problem. Instead, I go back to my mama’s comment about self-preservation and my lack of it.

“Mama, I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about you questioning my, as you called it, preservation skills. Do you really think I want to hurt myself?”

“No, I don’t mean that. I just don’t think you realize the consequences of your actions when you do these crazy things.”

After hearing it so often over the past four months, it’s easy to ignore the “crazy” remark but, coming from my mother, it still stings.

“I’m well aware of the consequences, thank you very much, and I don’t want to hurt myself or anyone else when I do those things. But,” I pause, sighing and attempting to mentally pull myself up by the bootstraps. “I’m working on it, Mama… I’m working on myself, and I’d really like your support.” It’s physically and mentally exhausting when I feel like it’s me against the whole damn world. I never realized how alone I feel until she starts in on me like this. The one person who should always have my back. “Lastly, stop judging Cage. He’s a nice guy and was helping me out by taking me home. That’s all.”

“Okay, baby,” she finally says, but I can still hear the hesitance in her tone. “Okay, just promise me you won’t get tangled up with someone like him. Do you even know who he is… really? I mean, he’s new to town, so you obviously just met him.”

I want to spill all the beans and make her head spin.

Yeah, Mama, he’s the bouncer at the Pink Pony and he knows kickboxing and he’s going to teach me. Oh, also, the first night we met, he drove me home when I was trashed on tequila and put me to bed.

Instead, I tell her, “He’s friends with Hank Weller and he’s from Dallas and he’s been a good friend to me, which I can’t say for anyone else in this town over the past few months, outside of Cole and Anna, but they have to because they’re family.”

“I don’t think you realize the impression,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “you’re giving people when you’re seen with him.”

My eyes can’t roll any further into the back of my head without falling out.

“Oh, good Lord, Mama—”

“He is good, Tempest. And He is watching.” When she starts in with her holier than thou speech, I know the conversation is over.

“Goodbye, Mama.”

“I expect to see you at church on Sunday,” she says, right before I give her a final “I love you, Mama” and hang up the phone.

Pressing it to my forehead, I hold my breath for a count of ten, hoping it will help center me and keep me from doing what I want to do, which is rage and scream and cry.

Don’t do it, Tempest.

Don’t destroy everything in this kitchen.

That’s just more work for you.

Because you’re alone… and divorced… and being forced to leave the house you love.

And Asher and Mindy are married. MARRIED.

I feel the tears slip under my palms that are pressed into my eyes, and it immediately makes me even more angry. He doesn’t deserve my tears. Our marriage doesn’t deserve my tears. So, why am I crying? Why do I care?

Those are questions I don’t have an answer to.

After a few more tears and some deep, cleansing breaths, I’m finally able to open my eyes and step away from the counter, turning in place as I look around.

This is just a house. It doesn’t define me.

Asher doesn’t define me.

I’ve been trying to convince myself of that, but failing.

Looking at the screen of my phone, I see I have half an hour until the realtor is supposed to be here and an hour before I need to leave for Knoxville. My anger management session is this afternoon and I need it. If nothing else, I’ll sit and listen to other people’s problems until I feel better about mine. Regardless, the drive alone will be a welcome reprieve. The awesome thing about going to Knoxville once a week is no one knows me there. I can walk down the sidewalk and no one stares or whispers after I walk by.

To keep my mind off the phone call with my mama and the news about Asher and Mindy, I dive back into the pile of mail and start purging.