Seth hadn’t set up a specific time for her to meet his mother. He’d just said tonight. But it had been twelve thirty when she returned from the main house. She must’ve slept the entire afternoon.

“Tia?” Seth’s voice came through the door again.

“Shoot,” she muttered as she eyed the candy and junk food wrappers that littered the coffee table and floor and the dishes that were stacked high on the counters and in the sink.

“Tia?” This time it was someone else—a female. “It’s Aiyana Turner,” the voice went on. “I hope you don’t mind giving me a moment of your time. I promise I would never do anything that would compromise you in any way.”

Although Seth’s mother sounded sincere, and Tia didn’t doubt her motives, a heavy dose of skepticism remained. Why had she allowed this meeting? What could Aiyana Turner really do?

No one could help her.

But it was too late to cancel. They were at her door.

Scrubbing a hand over her face—then wincing at the tenderness that remained in her cheek—she got to her feet and crossed the room. “Sorry, I...uh...fell asleep,” she said through the door. “Can you...can you give me a minute?”

“Of course,” the woman replied. “We’ll wait right here. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you. It...it won’t be long.”

“Okay, honey.”

Such an endearment shouldn’t have meant anything coming from a total stranger, and yet the way Seth’s mother said it made it feel like a caress.

Still trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, Tia used the bathroom, brushed her hair and did what she could to fix her makeup. Touching up her mascara and eye shadow seemed futile when she couldn’t believe anyone would be able to focus on anything other than her scars. But going through the motions gave her a moment to collect herself.

When she was done, she cast one final glance at the frightening image she saw reflected back at her and hurried out to open the door. Silver Springs rarely got snow, but it was chilly in December, and she felt bad for making them wait outside.

“Hello.” She’d decided not to take the time to cover her cheek with bandages, but Aiyana gripped her hand and looked into her eyes as if she didn’t even notice the scars.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said.

Seth’s mother was only about five-two. With long dark hair, kind brown eyes and a plethora of smile lines around her mouth, she had small hands to go with her petite body. Her orange nail polish looked beautiful next to her dark skin and matched the print of her vibrant, loose-fitting dress. She looked comfortable but well put together at the same time, and she smelled like gardenias.