Double Exposure: A Search & Rescue, Slow Burn Romance (Book 2) (Colton-Weston Search & Rescue) by Rebecca Ryan

Author:Rebecca Ryan [Ryan, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RAM5 Press LLC
Published: 2023-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

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Making a few observations while my mother sips a drink seems familiar. What’s not, is the Scotch in her hands. Clad in flowy linens like a Dalai Lama groupie, she is not dressed for the cold. Her feet, in nothing but low-cut loafers, must be freezing. At least she brought a coat.

She fiddled with the zipper, hung up the coat and poured herself the Scotch when I disappeared to get dressed.

“You didn’t have to get dressed, Jade. I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

I shrug. Yes, I did. I need to be on equal footing. “Mom you’re not dressed for Colorado in winter.”

“I understand. I didn't really have time to go shopping.”

“You didn’t have to come. I told you I’d take care of him.”

“It's not your job.”

“Did you cancel your performance?” She eases into the sofa cushions.

“I didn't cancel. That's what understudies are for. I'm sure Margaret will be thrilled that she gets to have the lead. Don’t act so surprised that I’m here,” she says and leans in for a sort of abbreviated hug. Way too short. She rubs my forearm, finishing with a tenacious grab of my hand. “Are you okay?”

“Mom, did something happen? Why are you really here?”

My mother’s hair is pulled back into a tight bun. She always wears it like this. She takes a slender hand and wipes a few wayward strands into place.

“Why do you think?”

I start to shrug and then she cuts me off.

“Your father,” she says.

Your father?

She’s not here for my father. Something’s happened. Something’s really not right.

Mom, oblivious to the ridiculous game of cat and mouse playing out between the two of us, waves away my questions and then volleys with one of her own.

“How is he?” She swirls the Scotch in her glass. Ice cubes roll over each other like loose gravel.

“Ah—well. You know Dad. The doctors keep saying he was incredibly lucky.” I try to announce this like it’s no big deal. This is how we handle stuff in my family. Nothing’s ever a big deal.

She doesn’t respond for a moment. “I have to get out of these clothes,” she says suddenly, setting the glass down. She disappears into the bathroom, taking the suitcase with her. When she emerges, she’s wearing a flaxen silk nightgown I’ve never seen before and a robe.

Dad’s robe.

Mom turns on the table lamp and motions for me to turn off the overhead.

Then I see her face. Her color is bad. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” she says stiffly. Suddenly her eyes start to well, and I'm panic stricken. I've never seen my mother cry, except once when our dog, Chewy, passed away. I grab tissues from a box on the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry,” she says dabbing her eyes. “I’m jet lagged. And I shouldn’t have had this drink. It’s about five in the morning my time. I mean Munich time.” She wipes her eyes while I stand, hovering, like an idiot.

“What can I do?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. I didn't sleep on the flight at all.

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