Catching Fire (Hometown Heat 2)

“Hold on, Mama. I’m at a restaurant, give me a second to step outside,” I whisper, before covering the bottom of the phone with my hand. “I’m so sorry, but I have to take this.” I scoot my chair back and stand. “And I’ll probably have to leave when I’m done. It’s my mom, and from the sound of it she’s in trouble again.”

“I’ll pay the check and meet you outside,” he says, not missing a beat. “No worries. Go take your call.”

I nod, relieved it doesn’t seem like he’s going to make a big deal out of me needing to bail. My first, and only, long-term boyfriend, Eli, was laid back most of the time—which I appreciated after my drama-filled childhood—but he hated sudden changes in plans. Every time I had to back out of something at the last minute, whether it was because of my mom, or because somebody at the firehouse needed help, or simply because I was exhausted from a long night at work, Eli would sink into a sulk that lasted for days.

His final sulk, which started at a Halloween party when I wanted to go home early because I’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours and was afraid I was about to fall asleep in the punch bowl, was the last straw.

I dumped him that night and have only occasionally thought of him since.

Sure, there are nights when I get so lonely I curl up in a ball on the couch with Captain Snugglepants and cuddle the hell out of him like a pathetic old cat lady, but most of the time I’m just fine. Eli and I ended up together because it was easy, not because we had hot and heavy feelings for each other. The last six months of our relationship were pretty annoying. And it’s far better to be alone than stuck with someone who annoys you.

My mama, of course, is of a different opinion…

She’ll take an awful boyfriend over no boyfriend any day.

“What’s up, Mama?” I step out onto the darkened street, wandering away from David’s front door to stand in the warm glow of a streetlight.

“Oh, honey,” Mama chokes out, her voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

Mama always starts off with a good five minutes of apologies, but as far as I’m concerned they’re a waste of time and breath. If she was really sorry for inconveniencing me and, occasionally—when I’ve been called in to help kick men twice my size out of her house, for example—putting me in danger, then she would have changed her behavior by now.

But she hasn’t changed, not one bit since I was a little girl. The only difference now is that I’m old enough to help bail her out of trouble instead of clinging to her leg, feeling powerless to make her stop crying.

“It’s bad this time, baby,” she says with a sniff. “So bad. Gary left me.”

“I’m sorry.” I stop fighting the eye roll.

Gary, my mom’s latest, is a creep who works on an oil rig six months out of the year. He rolled into Bliss River a few months ago looking like a mountain man with six types of critters living in his beard. He was, to put it bluntly, gross. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole for a dozen oil-money-funded vacations and a pony.

“He took my money and he left me.” She sucks in a breath, her voice going high and thin. “And I’ve only got one more night paid up at the hotel. Come tomorrow morning, I’m going to be kicked out on the street. I’m going to be homeless in New Orleans, Faith.”

“You’re not going to be homeless in New Orleans, Mama,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll wire you some money, and you can—”

“But there’s nothing close to the hotel, and I don’t have my car. It’s still in the garage at home,” she cuts in, sounding increasingly hysterical. “And it’s already dark out and this isn’t a good part of town, Faith. There are drug dealers out there, and all these sad little girls selling themselves on the street. Gary said we should stay here because we’d get more vacation for our money, but I was scared, even with him here. Now I’m all alone and I don’t have a dime for a cab or even any supper, and I don’t know how I’m going to—”

“All right, Mama. All right.” I curse beneath my breath, lowering my voice as Mick emerges from the restaurant. “Text me the address of the hotel and your room number. I’ll call you in a pizza delivery tonight and be there to pick you up by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, thank you, baby,” she sobs, sounding significantly more relaxed now that she’s gotten the answer she obviously wanted. “Thank you so much.”