“Where were you?” a voice asks as soon as I open the door to my room.
A yelp escapes me and I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. My back presses into the door and the figure on the bed slowly rises.
She scared me.
“Theresa Grace Mower.” Mum stops a few feet from me, one hand on her hip. “Where were you?” Being the baby I am, I bridge the gap and hug her. “This won’t cut it, Tessa.” But I feel her soften. Her hand lowers to my back. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were.”
Because I wasn’t thinking straight. “I’m sorry.”
“Your dad and I were worried.” She is totally relaxed now but I give her another squeeze.
I step back, wringing my hands. “I’m sorry.”
A minute or two later, she sighs and drags me to sit on the bed. “Did you two talk?”
“Not yet.”
She wants to ask why not but she doesn’t. In a way, I am scared of what Ben has to say. If Olivia is still calling, then they are still close.