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I roll my eyes at the comment, which she catches and elbows me in the gut for.

“No bother at all,” Dana assures her, with a glint in her eyes when she catches mine. “I believe Rick was planning to make a stir-fry tonight.”

“Great, I can help him,” my mother chirps as she claps her hands together.

I close my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose.

This is like one of those dreams you’re afraid you’ll never wake up from.

Chapter 22

Rick

* * *

The moment I hear the shower turning on upstairs, I turn to my mother.

“Seriously, Ma?”

This time she doesn’t bother giving me those big, innocent eyes. She shrugs her shoulders instead.

“I’m not going to apologize for it,” she states defensively. “Rico, I know you. You like things on your terms—to be the one to decide when I hear or see you—but I’m your mother. I worry about you, and when you start ignoring my calls, I know something is going on.”

I did ignore a couple of calls this past week, and her calls today, but I’ve had other things on my mind.

“So you just decide to drive here and ambush Dana at her work?”

“No, but I was worried, and you didn’t answer my calls. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

She folds her arms over her chest and jerks her chin up, daring me to defy her. The way she used to when I was a young punk, except she looks a lot older now.

Any other time I probably would have returned fire, but right now all I can hear is Tessa reminding me I won’t have my mother forever.

“Okay, Ma,” I concede.

Then I take the chicken and the vegetables from the fridge and grab an extra cutting board and knife.

“Peppers or onions?” I ask her.

She grabs the knife, tests its sharpness with the pad of her thumb, and decides, “Onions.”

Between us we have dinner prepped by the time Dana joins us.

“It won’t take much for me to make up the spare bedroom.”

Dana is cleaning up the kitchen, ignoring me and my cautionary looks, as she fully turns to my mother.

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose,” Ma returns. “I will get a hotel room.”

The only room she’ll get anywhere around here would be at the bed-and-breakfast, but their rooms are currently taken up by the FBI team—and I wouldn’t want Ma anywhere near them or this investigation—or the Starlight outside Lutton, and I don’t like the idea of her staying at a roadside motel.

“Nonsense,” Dana protests. “It’s no trouble⁠—”

“You can have my bed back at my apartment,” I interrupt what might otherwise have been another five minutes of back-and-forth.

My mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “Where are you going to be?”

I narrow my eyes at her. She knows damn well I’ll be here. She couldn’t have missed my open duffel bag or my clothes all over a chair in Dana’s bedroom. I hate when she plays these games.