It wasn’t love, but it was trust, and maybe that was better. From a woman like Savannah, maybe that was the key to my kingdom.
“Savannah,” I whispered, joy pumping into my body like fuel. “You have—”
The violent shattering of glass destroyed the quiet of the night.
17
MATT
I leaped off the counter as though it was on fire. Savannah was right beside me, her hand a talon on my arm.
“What—”
“The sleeping porch,” I said, turning toward where the crash had come from, adrenaline hammering my system. “Stay here.”
“Like hell,” she muttered and followed me down the dark hallway. “So help me,” she whispered, “if it’s Garrett or Owen—”
A small figure, dressed in black from head to toe, crossed the doorway of the sleeping porch, between us and the moonlight.
A ski mask. A flashlight no bigger than a pin.
This was no high-schooler.
I shoved my hand out, pressing Savannah against the wall. She nodded when I looked at her. She’d be quiet. She’d be still.
My fingers traced her cheek for a split second, then I snuck through the shadows of the hallway and stepped into the sleeping porch. The thief was short and thin like a kid—maybe it was a teenager after all. One who’d seen a few too many movies about thieves and knew the costume requirements.
I grabbed the kid’s arm, hauling him close and the kid turned. I got the impression of narrowed blue eyes just before the kid hoofed me—hard—right in the crotch.
I cupped my injured junk and hit the floor.
“Savannah.” I tried to gasp a warning, but the thief leaped over me toward the door before I could get out the breath, much less the words.
Forcing myself to swallow the nausea and crushing pain in my groin, I crawled toward the door, pulling myself to my feet in time to see Savannah tackle the thief to the hardwood floor of the hallway.
The thief fought, but Savannah ducked her head to keep her nose and eyes safe and held on tight, her whole body taut with effort.
Fierce wasn’t the half of it.
“Good catch,” I said, hauling the thief off Savannah. I wrapped my arm around the kid’s neck to keep him in place then yanked off the ski mask.
Long blond hair fell out around a beautiful and terribly familiar face.
“Mom?” Savannah breathed.
SAVANNAH
I’d stepped down some rabbit hole or something, because looking at my mother was like looking into a mirror. Or into the past. She was unchanged. My mother stood there, as lovely as the day she left.
As lovely and as cold.
How could this be happening?
I had to shut my eyes and pretend this was a dream. Or that I’d finally lost my mind because there was no way, no way in hell, my mother was back.
And breaking into my home?
Yeah, I hit my head or something. This can’t be happening.
“Hello, Savannah,” Vanessa said. And the voice was real, carved right out of my memories. The voice that had read me bedtime stories. The voice that had sung me songs and scolded my brothers for picking on me.
The voice that had said goodbye and lied.
Rage, bitter and hot, a thousand times stronger than grief, pounded through me.
“Get out of here,” I snapped.
“Whoa!” Matt cried. “Wait a second, let’s get some answers here. Your mother just broke into your house.”
“She’s not my mother,” I said, nasty and cold. “She’s no one.”
“I’m your daughter’s grandmother,” Vanessa said, such a vicious low blow that I jerked into action, stepping right into my mother’s face.
“You stay away from Katie,” I hissed. Then understanding dawned. “That was you. That second break-in through Katie’s room?”
“I didn’t even know you had a daughter,” Vanessa said, her eyes suddenly full. “I’m a grandmother and I didn’t know. She’s so beautiful, Savvy. So—”
I reeled back. What was this? Grief? Regret? A thousand strings attached to my stomach yanked and I thought I might be sick.
“You left me,” I stammered. “You walked away. Twenty years ago! You don’t get to cry. You don’t get—”
“I missed you,” Vanessa said. “Every minute of all of those years, I missed you.”
I put my hand to my head, a sudden headache. A sudden desire to scream clawing its way up my throat.
“Then you probably shouldn’t have left,” Matt said. “You probably shouldn’t have abandoned your children.”
“What the hell do you know about it?” Vanessa said, pushing at him, a little snarl replacing those tears.
“I know you don’t leave behind your kids,” Matt said, pushing back. “And then break into their home and make them feel unsafe.”
“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Vanessa said, her eyes pleading in my direction. Fires raged inside of me, questions and anger and hurt. Every single thing I thought I’d gotten over was right here as I stared into my mother’s lovely face.
Why did you leave me?
What is wrong with me?