Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 225

My mom had always had a way of making things feel normal.

Even when they weren’t.

Even when the world outside was getting swallowed whole by a blizzard, the wind howling like it was personally offended by our existence.

Inside the Carter house?

It smelled like garlic and butter.

The heater hummed.

The kitchen lights were warm.

And my mom was standing at the counter like this was just… a regular Tuesday.

Except it wasn’t.

Jessa was here.

Staying the night.

Because Rachel Carter had called her mom and said, absolutely not, she is not driving home in this.

And now there was no undoing it.

No pretending.

No backing out.

Just… reality.

My mom turned her head, eyes landing on Jessa sitting stiffly at the kitchen table like she was afraid to take up too much space.

“Jess, sweetheart,” Mom said gently, “do you want to help me with dinner?”

Jessa blinked, startled. “Oh- I can, I mean… sure.”

Her voice carried that instinct she always had. The one that said: don’t be a burden.

Mom smiled like she could hear the thought anyway.

“Good,” she said, sliding a cutting board toward her. “Because Noah is useless in a kitchen unless it involves cereal.”

I scoffed. “That’s not true.”

Mom didn’t even look at me. “Name one vegetable you’ve willingly touched.”

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“…Potatoes.”

“That’s a starch.”

Jessa’s laugh slipped out before she could stop it.

And God, it hit me right in the chest.

I loved that sound.

Mom handed her a knife. “Just chop these peppers for me. Not too small.”

Jessa hesitated, then nodded. Her hands moved carefully, like she was trying to do it right. Like she was trying to earn her place here.

I leaned against the counter beside her. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know.”

She glanced up. “I’m not.”

I raised an eyebrow.

She sighed softly. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

Mom hummed as she stirred something on the stove. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, either.”

Jessa froze.

Mom’s voice stayed calm, like she was talking about the weather.

“I already like you,” she added simply. “A lot.”

Jessa’s cheeks flushed. “Mrs. Carter…”

“Rachel,” Mom corrected automatically. “If you’re spending the night in my house because the world decided to end in snow, you can call me Rachel.”

Jessa looked like she didn’t know what to do with that.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Rachel.”

Mom’s smile softened. “That’s better.”

I watched Jessa’s shoulders loosen, just a fraction.

She didn’t relax easily.

Not fully.

But she was trying.

Outside, the wind slammed against the windows again.

Jessa’s knife paused.

“It’s really bad,” she murmured.

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“Mm–hmm,” Mom said. “Your mom didn’t even argue when I called. She just said, ‘Thank you. Please keep her there.“”

Jessa swallowed hard.

I saw it–the way that landed.

Like she wasn’t used to being someone people kept safe.

Mom must’ve seen it too, because she added, “She loves you, Jess. She’s just… tired. Life’s been heavy for her.”

Jessa blinked quickly, focusing hard on the peppers again.

“I know,” she said quietly.

But her voice didn’t sound convinced.

Dinner was simple. Pasta. Bread. Something warm.

We ended up back in the living room, the lights dim except for the glow of the TV.

Jessa curled up on the couch, knees tucked under her again, my hoodie swallowing her whole.

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