“Nothing.” She sucks in a breath. “Thank you for stepping in like this. Ethan has a key, and you’re more than welcome to stay there. If you want to go to your mom’s, by all means. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“You don’t have to beg me for anything.”

The innuendo that I didn’t plan on but that works perfectly hangs in the air. Palmer giggles.

“There’s money in the cookie jar if you guys go get food or anything.”

I laugh. “That’s a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, you go do whatever you need to do today, and I’ll hold the fort down.” I glance at my mom. “I mean, it’s better than hanging out with Mom. She was going to have me wiping down baseboards today.”

“Oh, you’ll still do that,” Mom teases.

Palmer must hear her because she laughs. “Thank you, Cole. Honestly.”

“Sure. But next time, just ask me when you need something.”

I mean it at face value. But it’s the insinuation that there will be a next time, and I’ll be here for it, that hangs in the air between us.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way home,” she says, avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Sounds great. Try to have a good day, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks again, Cole.”

“Bye, Palmer.”

I’m afraid to even look at my mother. And when I do, she’s smiling like a loon.

“This is a sign,” she says as if the angel Gabriel has just descended from heaven and handed her a placard.

“A sign for what?”

She shrugs. “I think this proves that you shouldn’t take opportunities just because they’re there. Sometimes what’s in front of you can block you from things coming.”

And then, like the philosopher that I didn’t know my mother to be, she simply turns and walks out of the kitchen.

CHAPTER THIRTY PALMER

CHAPTER THIRTY

PALMER

Every cell in my body hurts.

I turn into the driveway. Even though I know that Cole and Ethan stayed at the house this evening, it still takes me aback that there are lights on. There are never lights on at the house when I get home.

The sensation tickles my heart. I know it’s because my defenses are down after a grueling day at the auction—not to mention the two-hour drive home—but I’m still mulling over the idea as I park my car in the driveway.

Cool night air licks at my skin as I walk up the steps and unlock the front door.

The house is quiet as I enter. I set my keys on the table by the door and then peek into the kitchen. The light is on, but the kitchen is void of people but not scents. The air is tinged with the aroma of oregano and garlic. It makes my stomach growl.