The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,9
deep sense of belonging that kept her grounded. “Logan.”
“I thought you liked Logan?” He scratched his head.
“I did.” She really did, which was part of the problem. She unwrapped three mini Reese’s and popped them into her mouth in quick succession. Milk. She needed ice-cold milk. “But now he’s Peyton’s emissary.”
“Oh.” He nodded, frowning with a slight nod. “Well, he’s in a tough spot.”
“Really, Dad?” she asked, her mouth still pasty from the peanut butter. She poured herself a tumbler of milk and guzzled a bit before speaking. “My relationship with his sister is none of his business. He should just butt out.”
“Who should butt out of what?” her mom asked, dangling pink-and-gray polka-dot drawstring pajama pants in one hand while gesturing with the other. “Give me your wet pants.”
“Logan,” Claire muttered, popping another Reese’s. “And my relationship with Peyton.”
“Oooh.” Her mom grimaced in agreement.
Her dad covered his eyes while Claire wiggled out of her damp corduroys. Her fingers brushed the scars from the bullet wound and her surgeries, which were partly visible despite her undies.
The shot from the high-velocity rifle had punctured the front of her left hip and blown out the back, shattering her acetabulum, the fragments of which caused additional trauma requiring multiple surgeries, leaving her with lifelong damage and sciatic nerve pain. Few people had ever seen the scars, though. She’d had little dating experience prior to Todd—a side effect of having lived at home with her parents for too long. She’d rushed headfirst into that relationship, although it had taken her a while to let him see her naked. The first and only man she’d trusted enough. What a waste . . . and a lesson.
She handed her pants to her mom and slipped on the pj’s. “You can look now, Dad.”
“Pass me some of those.” He gestured to the Reese’s with one hand.
Claire took her milk and the bag of candy to the kitchen table and sat down.
Her mom returned from the laundry room within a minute. She must’ve decided that anything would be a better topic of conversation than Logan, as she suggested, “If you’re not too busy today, we should get a manicure. That always makes me feel better.”
Her mom wasn’t wrong, and a manicure sounded like a little bit of heaven. A bit Claire couldn’t afford at the moment. “Thanks, but I need to conserve every penny so we can afford decent retail space.”
“Why pay rent when you can work from your home office?” Her mom poured herself another small cup of coffee.
“Right now we’re only reaching customers by word of mouth and our website. If I had a storefront, people would drop in, and I could sell services. It’d give us more legitimacy, I think. If I could find something supercheap, I might even dip into my rainy-day fund to make it happen.”
“That’s not wise, honey.” Her dad scratched his chin.
“Tom, why can’t we give the girls a little business loan?” Her mom rubbed his shoulders and kissed the balding spot on his head. Claire had watched her mom maneuver him with this soft touch a thousand times.
“I wasn’t a fan of her going into business with a friend because of the risks. Now you want us to get involved, too?” He patted his wife’s hand before looking at Claire. “But if you get into a real bind, come talk to me, and we’ll see how we can help.”
“Thanks, Dad, but I’ll solve my own problems.” She hated that the first thing most people thought of when they saw her and Rosie coming was how to make things easier for her. “Needy” and “incapable” weren’t words she associated with herself.
She’d been a fierce competitor before the accident. Disciplined. Strong. Ambitious. Those traits didn’t disappear just because she’d healed funny, post-traumatic arthritis sliced through her hip like a hot knife, and nerve damage sent a jolt of lightning through her back and leg every now and then.
She’d survived the bullet, blood loss, and surgeries. She’d learned to walk again, graduated high school on schedule despite missing many classes during rehab, and gone on to have a satisfying career. The only battles she’d lost were some mental ones—missing what had been, and fearing what else could happen. But she’d hidden those blues from most everyone, so why did people still treat her as less than?
Her dad smiled. “Just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you can’t lean on others sometimes, too.”