Branded as Trouble. Delores Fossen

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СКАЧАТЬ that’s what she liked to tell herself.

      It was just as possible that he would have only added another level of weirdness. After all, he’d married Vita.

      Still, Mila had some incredible memories of Frankie Michael Banchini. He’d done funny faces to make her laugh, had secretly eaten those much-hated Brussels sprouts that Vita had insisted on serving her. And he’d never turned her away when she wanted him to read her a story. Mila was certain that’s where her love of books had started, and being around them was a way of keeping her father close.

      She had loved him. Always would. And she loved her mother, too. Sometimes, though, Vita didn’t always make loving her that easy.

      “There’s an ill wind blowing,” her mother greeted her. She lifted her head, looked at the cloudless sky. There wasn’t so much as a wisp of a breeze. “Bad juju. That might help.”

      Vita tipped her head to a small white box on Mila’s doorstep. The kind of box that someone might use to gift a small piece of jewelry.

      Since the porch wasn’t that big, Mila leaned in and had a look. Not jewelry. It appeared to be a blob of some kind of animal poop. Chicken, probably, since her mother raised them.

      “Sometimes, you have to fight caca with caca,” her mother added.

      Mila could only sigh, and she sank down on the step next to her mother. She considered asking her if she wanted to go inside, but she’d left her Buttercup clothes on the sofa and didn’t want to have to explain it.

      “So, what bad juju should I expect?” Mila asked.

      “I had a vision. Within thirty days, your life will be turned upside down.”

      Oh, this was such a cheery conversation. Mila hadn’t lied to Ian when she had told him she didn’t drink beer, but there was a bottle of wine in her fridge that she’d need after this visit.

      It wasn’t fun to encourage this conversation thread, but her mother wasn’t going to leave until she had said whatever it was she’d come to say. Best to get that “say” started.

      “Are we talking a tornado here?” Mila asked. “Or something more personal, like me tripping and falling?”

      Vita lifted her shoulder. “The vision doesn’t always dot the i’s or cross the t’s. But in these same thirty days, you’ll be on a quest to find the truth.”

      Well, she was sort of heading in that direction, anyway. The fantasy stuff just wasn’t working for her anymore. Lately, she’d been thinking about being kissed. For real. Not as part of some reenactment.

      “And after thirty days, you’ll no longer be a virgin,” her mother added in a discussing-the-weather tone. Vita took something from her pocket—a foil-wrapped condom—and handed it to her. “Use this, though. It’s a rubber, and it’ll stop you from getting knocked up. You put it on the man’s secret place when he’s decided not to keep it secret from you any longer.”

      Mila stared at her. “I know what a condom is.”

      “Well, good.” Vita patted her hand. And kept on patting. It went on for so long that Mila had to stop her or else she was going to have a red mark.

      “Is something wrong?” Mila came out and asked.

      Vita nodded, got to her feet, but not before patting her hand again. “I need to take a little trip back to see my family.”

      She might as well have announced she was going to Pluto. Vita never traveled. Heck, her mother never left Wrangler’s Creek. “To Romania?”

      Another nod. “I want to see them while they’re still around to be seen. Just don’t hate me when the shit happens. I had my reasons for doing what I did.”

      Color her confused. What did Romanians, upside down, devirgining and bad juju have to do with her hating her mother?

      “All will be revealed in time,” Vita added, and she started to walk to her bicycle, which was next to Mila’s fence.

      She was still confused. “Want me to give you a ride home?” Her mother owned a car but rarely used it. Instead, Vita preferred to pedal the two miles from her place and into town.

      Vita shook her head and kept moving. Mila would have gone after her if her phone hadn’t rung, and she saw her best friend’s name on the screen. Sophie Granger McKinnon.

      “I’m at the hospital,” Sophie said the moment that Mila answered.

      That was not something she wanted to hear from anyone but especially one who was seven and a half months pregnant with twins. “Are you in labor?”

      “No. I’m fine. It’s not me. It’s my mom. She had some chest pains so I brought her in.” It sounded as if Sophie was crying. “Mila, they think she might have had a heart attack.”

      Oh, mercy. “Just stay calm. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Who’s with you now?”

      “Clay.”

      Good. Clay was police chief Clay McKinnon, Sophie’s husband and a rock under pressure. He would help Sophie rein in her worst fears. Still, Mila needed to be there, too. She’d known Sophie’s mother, Belle, her entire life, and while Belle wasn’t exactly Miss Sunshine, she didn’t put curses on people.

      “Garrett and Nicky are on the way, too,” Sophie added. Her brother and his fiancée. “Garrett was off buying some cattle, but he should be here soon. Anyway, I’ve tried to call Roman, but he’s not answering. I hate to ask you to do this, but could you try calling him again for me? If he still doesn’t answer, would you drive to his house in San Antonio and tell him what’s going on?”

      “Of course,” Mila said without hesitation.

      “I know Roman and Mom are at odds, but he’ll want to know. Convince him to come home.”

      “I will.”

      Mila wasn’t sure she could do that. Roman wasn’t an easy-to-convince sort of person. Plus, she always got a little tongue-tied around him. But surely once he heard about his mother, Mila wouldn’t need to do much convincing. He would hurry to be by her side.

      She scrolled through her “favorites” contacts, found Roman’s number and pressed it. Since he hadn’t answered his sister’s call, Mila expected this to go to voice mail, but she was surprised when he immediately answered.

      “Mila,” he said.

      One word. Her name. There was nothing unusual about it, other than Roman had been the one to say it. And, like any other time she heard him speak, her stomach did a flip-flop. She so wished there was some way to make herself immune to him.

      Mila gathered her breath, ready to tell him about his mom, but Roman continued first. “It’s Tate,” he said.

      Her stomach did another flip-flop but for a different reason this time. That’s because she heard the concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

      “He ran away again, and I’ve been looking all over for him. By any chance, did he go to your place?”

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