My mom was laying on the couch with her feet spread out in front of her like she was getting her toes painted at a salon. It looked like she was at a salon as she did have cucumbers on her eyes.

"What are your thoughts on having tacos tonight for dinner?"

"Sounds great to me." I dropped my purse on the chair at the table and sat down on the chair next to it.

"Don't drop your bag now. I needed to send you back out." I looked over to see if her eyes were still covered, and they were.

"For what?"

"The ingredients for the tacos. You know all that we need, so I trust you will be fast on preparing the meat when you get home." I knew that I would be the one to prepare the food, but that's only because I had done it tons of times before. Out of the both of us I was the one that enjoyed cooking. I liked learning how to make new things from recipes online, but my mom didn't like when I experimented. She would be happy with the same menu every day if it meant she didn't have to try the food I made when it didn't turn out good.

So without me she would only be eating salads, because that's the only thing she could make, but sometimes I even doubted that. I would watch as she would stress on what order to put in the ingredients and have to turn for me to help, asking, "Do I put in the cucumbers or tomatoes first?" Which I would reply that it didn't matter. I tried teaching her more complex things like cooking meat, but she was never into it. I think she just liked the idea of someone doing it for her, to taking care of her.

"Okay, I'll be back in a little bit." My purse was back on my shoulder and I was back in my car on the way to the supermarket.

I was grateful that I found a spot to park and that it didn't take me that long to have most of my ingredients in the bag that I was carrying around and just needed to get the taco shells, but of course I had to run into someone from the pack before I could. It was almost impossible to come to a place like this and not run into someone I know, and this person in particular I didn't want to see, especially after talking with their mate yesterday.

Bronny.

"Hey, Amelia." He put his arm out like that would block me from going in the aisle. I ducked underneath his arm and kept walking.

"So what a convenience that we meet like this."

"Not really." I found the arrangement of taco shells and tried to find the ones I wanted as fast I could to just get out of there.

"Why in such a hurry? You're not trying to get away from me, are you?" He smiled because he knew that was exactly what I was doing.

"Of course not." I collected myself as I found what I was looking for, and grabbed it, shoved it in my bag, and went to go pay.

That didn't happen, of course, because as I thought Bronny's attention was on something down the aisle to the left I tried to go right. Instead he wrapped his arm around my waist and shoved me into his chest. My arms were down at my sides, so there was no way I could punch him. I tried to kick him in his privates, but he kept blocking me. I felt like a wild animal on how much I was struggling.

I felt lips on my neck and was thinking about throwing my head back to try to give him a concussion when I heard, "Seriously?" and noticed the voice right away. I shut my eyes, maybe thinking that it was a way to become invisible, but Bronny's back was the one to the food and I was the one in clear sight.

I found it stupid though that I was panicking for doing nothing wrong, and when I stared at Hillary directly in the eyes I knew she wasn't talking to me, but Bronny. Her hands were at her waist and both her eyebrows were raised.

The kissing stopped, but he still held me. "Hillary I didn't see you there." He didn't even try to sound surprised, and Hillary wasn't taking any of his bullshit.

"Yeah, you did. I saw you look at me then start kissing her. I'm not blind."

"I'm glad you are not because then you would have been deprived of this gorgeous face." He pointed to himself leaving one of my arms free. Which I gladly took as my way to leave, but instead of holding me at his front, he held me at his side, and I was still too weak to push him away.

I hate being stuck in these kinds of situations and feeling so defenseless. Most of the other pack members learned combat, but I was left at home because my mom always "forgot" about them. And somehow convinced me that fighting wasn't important, I regret listening to her now.

"I could say the same for you." Hillary pointed to herself, and I forced myself not to laugh, but I did lift up the corner of my mouth. "You also wouldn't be able to see these." She flashed her chest and Bronny's arm dropped.

I looked around to see if anyone else noticed what was going on, but there was no one else in this food isle. People probably glanced and saw "the pack slut," rolled there eyes and walked away. I took a step away from him as his eyes were only for Hillary, at the moment.

He pushed her against one of the racks and lifted her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. I don't know why I still stood there. Maybe, making sure that she was okay, but I was starting to feel silly. This was her mate that was holding her, she should be fine.

That one second longer that I watched was when her eyes looked right at me and I saw this look in her eyes. It's the same way my mom looked at me the first time I walked into her room with a man in her room. It was one of shock and sadness.

My mom never showed me that look again. She would always have this calm about her like her true feelings were locked away. Hillary wasn't at that point yet, and I don't think she ever would be, but as her eyes closed again and his mouth was on hers, I didn't know for sure.

Was this her way to tell me she was sorry for what she did? Was she trying to protect me from her own mate? Or was she trying to protect herself from seeing her mate with other girls. If the last thing was true, how far would she go?

I sat in my car after paying for the food. My heart hurting for Hillary, but I still couldn't forgive her. I didn't know why it was such a struggle to forgive someone, but to me it was. And as I continued to sit in my car with no music I thought about my mom. The one person I still have not forgiven.

I had forgiven her for sleeping with other men, and not being the perfect mom, because that was an unreal expectation. I have forgiven her for so many things, yet I couldn't forgive her for letting my dad go.

My mom constantly told me that it wasn't my fault that he left, but she never said anything else. So I blamed it on her. She must have done something wrong to anger him. If it wasn't my fault, it was hers. It was all hers.

When I got home I prepared everything and had it laid out in a buffet way on the table for her to put it together the way she wanted. She didn't ask any questions on the order the ingredients should be put on the taco shell. She also didn't have any questions on why I arrived home so late. We were both eating in silence.

She looked refreshed as she finished off the food on her plate. She looked like she had taken a good nap earlier today and was still wide awake, yet she said she was going to bed. She started to go upstairs, but I stopped her.

I counted to three and asked, "Mom, why did dad leave us."

I thought she wasn't going to respond and brush it off the way she always did, but she didn't. "He never left us. He was never ours to begin with." She didn't look at me and continued up the stairs.

So I'm starting to piece together the middle of this story and I'm so excited. I still don't know what the next chapter will be about. So we will be surprised together.

Also, who's excited for the Super Bowl?  And do you watch for the football or halftime show? I really enjoy both.