She nodded as her eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “Yes, it’s very much you. Matches the paint stains on your shirt.”

Glancing down at my old Twilight shirt, I saw that there was quite a bit of purple splattered across Edward’s face. “Ha.”

“So . . .” Mom drew the word out in a way that had warning bells ring-­a-­dinging in my head. “You know, the offer still stands. Right?”

My spine stiffened as I met her earnest stare. The offer. Ugh. The offer was a living, breathing crutch that I sometimes—­okay, almost always—­wanted to lean on. The offer was to move back home, at twenty-­two, drop the computer graphics classes and the bartending and the web design I did on the side, and devote 100 percent of my time to my real passion.

Painting.

I was seriously lucky that my parents would be willing to support a broke-­ass artist, but I couldn’t do that. I needed my independence. It was why I moved out and it was why it was taking me ten billion years to finish my classes at the community college.

“Thank you,” I said, clasping her warm hand in mine. “I mean it. Thank you, but you know . . .”

She sighed as she pulled her hand free and clasped my cheeks. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I know, but I just need to make sure you haven’t forgotten.” Drawing back, she tilted her head to the side as she smoothed a thumb just below my glasses. “You look so tired, worn out.”

“Geez, Mom. Thanks.”

She gave me a pointed look. “What time did you get off from Mona’s?”

“Three in the morning.” I sighed as I leaned back against the cushion, letting it swallow me up. “I got up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Sympathy tinged her tone.

My momma knew me. I nodded.

There was a pause as she folded one knee over the other. “You saw Charlie yesterday?”

I nodded again.

“Of course you did,” she said quietly. “How is my boy?”

Hearing her refer to Charlie like that made the wound of seeing him the way he was now so much harder. My parents . . . God, they were more parental figures to Charlie growing up than his own parents were. Sighing heavily, I told her about my visit with Charlie and how he hadn’t acknowledged me again. Concern filled her dark eyes, because she too remembered what happened before.

When I was done, Mom pulled off her glasses and fidgeted with the slender arm. “I heard about Reece.”

My eyes widened until I thought they’d pop out of my head. She heard about Reece? About our hookup that was not really a hookup? Mom and I shared a lot, but I drew the line there.

“I thought it was very nice of him to find you yesterday and tell you about Henry,” she continued, and relief punched me in the stomach.

Thank God she wasn’t referencing the shenanigans. “How did you know about that?”