Chapter 29 Unsettling Feelings

Chapter 29 Unsettling Feelings

Elowen Bennett

There was a creaking sound downstairs that interrupted my texting with Andrew. I had a bad feeling about it, the kind that settles in your chest like cold syrup. I had to go check. I grabbed the closest thing I could find—a mop stick. I knew it was stupid, but it was the only thing I could think of in that half-asleep panic.

I walked downstairs. The light was dimly lit, just the stove hood glowing orange. Then I heard it: soft, wet sounds of kissing. I scrunched my brow in confusion. Kissing?

I switched on the light.

My mom was perched on the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around a lanky man with patchy stubble. His hands were gripping her waist like he owned the place. They froze the second the lights flicked on.

“Honey, you’re awake?” Mom said, her voice too bright, too fake.

Of course I’m awake. The smooshing was loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. But I didn’t say that out loud.

“Yeah… I didn’t know you were coming with a visitor,” I muttered, eyes locked on the stranger’s hands still resting on her hips. I wanted to smack them off.

“He isn’t a visitor,” Mom said, giggling awkwardly as she slid down from the counter and smoothed her shirt. “He’s my fiancé.”

Something dropped straight to the pit of my stomach.

“Fiancé?” The word tasted sour.

“Heyy, Elowen,” the man said, stepping forward with this easy grin. I hated myself for immediately noticing the bit of spinach stuck in his teeth. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I just nodded, awkward and stiff. My fingers were still clenched around the mop stick like it was a sword. Up close, he looked even lankier—tall and thin, with long arms and a faded black hoodie that smelled faintly of cigarettes and cheap cologne. His name was apparently Derek. Mom kept saying it like it was supposed to mean something to me.

“Nice… to meet you,” I forced out. My voice sounded dead.

Mom kept glancing between us, her smile stretched too wide. She was trying so hard it hurt to watch. “Derek and I met at that pottery class I started last month. Things just… clicked, you know? We didn’t want to tell you until it was serious.”

Serious. The word bounced around my skull. I knew Dad had been for years. Years of Mom crying in the bathroom with the shower running so I wouldn’t hear. Years of me pretending everything was fine while I made dinner and helped her remember to pay the electricity bill. And now this guy with spinach in his teeth was her fiancé?

I set the mop stick against the wall, suddenly embarrassed by it. “So… when did this happen?”

“Last weekend,” Derek answered for her, sliding an arm around Mom’s waist again. “I popped the question at the overlook. Real romantic.”

Mom blushed like a teenager. I wanted to throw up.

Andre’s messages were still lighting up my phone upstairs, but I couldn’t even think about replying now. He’d asked if I was free tomorrow to hang at the skatepark. Normal stuff. My life had felt almost normal for five minutes.

“I should go back to bed,” I said, already turning away.

“Wait, El,” Mom called. She only used that nickname when she felt guilty. “Why don’t you sit with us for a bit? Derek brought ice cream.”

I paused on the stairs. Ice cream at one in the morning. Sure.

Against my better judgment, I sat at the kitchen table while Derek scooped rocky road into three mismatched bowls. He kept talking—about his job at the auto shop, how he used to play bass in a band back in the day, how he couldn’t wait to “be part of the family.” Every time he said family, my stomach twisted tighter.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asked suddenly, spoon halfway to his mouth.

I shrugged. “Sort of. Talking to someone.” I didn't know what in the world made me say that.

“Nice. What’s his name?”

“Andrew." What was wrong with my mouth?

Derek nodded like he was storing the information away. “Bring him around sometime. We can grill or something.”

We. Like he already lived here.

Mom kept touching his arm, laughing at things that weren’t even funny. I watched her face—the way her eyes got soft when she looked at him. Part of me was happy for her. The bigger part felt like I was watching my whole world tilt sideways.

Later, after Derek finally left (he had an early shift, apparently), Mom came up to my room. She sat on the edge of my bed like she used to when I was little and had nightmares.

“I know this is sudden,” she said quietly. “I should’ve told you sooner. I was scared you’d be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” I picked at a loose thread on my blanket. “I’m just… surprised. He seems… nice.”

The lie tasted bitter. Something about Derek didn’t sit right. It wasn’t just the spinach or the way he looked at our house like he was already calculating what he could sell. It was the way his eyes flicked to me when Mom wasn’t looking—measuring, like he was trying to figure out if I’d be a problem.

Mom sighed. “He makes me feel young again, El. After your dad… I thought that part of me was gone.”

I nodded even though my throat hurt. “Just… be careful, okay?”

She kissed my forehead and left.

I lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time, phone in my hand. Andre had sent three more texts asking if I was okay. I typed back: weird night. tell you tomorrow.

But I didn’t sleep much. Every creak in the house now sounded like footsteps. Every shadow looked like Derek’s lanky frame.

By morning, I was exhausted. Mom was already humming in the kitchen, making coffee for two. Derek’s mug was sitting on the counter like it belonged there. When I came down, he was back—leaning against the fridge in the same hoodie, scrolling on his phone.

“Mornin’, kiddo,” he said with that same easy grin. The spinach was gone, but the uneasy feeling wasn’t.

“Morning.” I grabbed a banana and tried to leave quickly.

“Hey, before you go,” he called. “Your mom mentioned you’re into photography. I’ve got an old camera in my truck if you want it. Vintage Leica. Could be cool for you.”

I stopped. It was a nice offer. Maybe too nice. “Thanks… I’ll think about it.”

As I walked out the door, I glanced back. Mom was laughing at something he whispered in her ear, her hand on his chest. She looked happy. Really happy.

I wanted to be happy for her. I did.

But as I headed out, that bad feeling stayed glued to my ribs like it had grown roots overnight. Derek might be Mom’s fiancé, but something told me this wasn’t going to be the happy little family story she wanted.

And I was going to figure out why.