“Good morning, Ed.” Rory’s voice sent me into major panic mode as she greeted the neighbor on her way around to the basement. To us!

“Oh my gosh!” I whisper yelled. “Get up!” I tugged on Fisher’s arm.

He squinted, not entirely awake.

“Rory’s coming! GET UP!” Had I whispered any louder, she would have heard me.

Fisher stumbled getting up. I pushed him with all my strength toward the door.

“Go! Hurry!”

“Christ, woman … I’m going already.” He walked like a drunk man with his shirt unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder and his hair matted in back.

As soon as he made it to the stairs, I rushed back to the porch.

“Look who’s up early,” Rory said in a cheery voice as I grabbed the blanket and kicked Fisher’s sneakers under the sofa.

“Yeah, I uh … slept out here last night. When I discovered the lights, I couldn’t resist.”

She opened the door to the porch instead of going in through the main door. “Oh, yeah. I should have told you. I guess I figured you’d see them and look for the switch.”

I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. “So … did you have fun?” I sat back down on the sofa while she took a seat in the rocker.

“We had a great time. When you’re older, we’ll have to go to all the clubs. There are some really great ones around here. If …” Her nose wrinkled. She sometimes forgot that I spent the previous three years with my grandparents in a very conservative home and school. “If you’re comfortable with it or you want to.” Her pained expression softened into the mom I once knew, the face of unconditional love.

The face of absolute comfort. She was my safe place. I was never a daddy’s girl, despite my interest in his job and his hobby. I idolized my mom, and I didn’t think she ever really knew.

“I want you to be whoever you need to be to feel comfortable in your own skin. I want you to never feel the need to fit in or follow others if it’s not who you are. Okay?”

Right there. That was my mom.

Pressing my lips together, I nodded slowly. And I almost, almost told her that my path had crossed with Fisher’s path.

Collided.

Crashed.

And I wasn’t sure I’d ever find my own way again because I loved him. More than that … despite my battered and prodded ego … I liked who I was with him, even if it made no sense. Even if I’d never tell him that.

Did love have to make sense?

“So the club was fun?”

She nodded. “Yes. One of our favorites was playing.”

“And Tiffany and Fisher … did they hit it off?”