Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
He’s the responsible one, yeah?
He wouldn’t involve himself in anything shady, not when he had the golden-boy image he was adamant on living up to. Before I could give it another thought, the garage door opened while I was warming up a plate of food, revealing the woman I least expected.
“Jesus, you’re like the gum on the bottom of my shoe.”
She briefly smirked, shutting the door behind her. “You think I don’t remember where the hide-a-key is?”
“Well,” I clarified, “we have been robbed a few times. We just thought it was Joe.”
She chuckled. “Still my funny boy.”
“I’m not laughing.”
She giggled, grabbing the food from my hand. “Here, let me do that for you.”
I let her take it, too exhausted to put up a fight. I think a part of me always expected her to come back at some point. I wasn’t waiting for her. I stopped waiting years ago. Seeing her there, in the kitchen, a place we spent a lot of our time when I was growing up, was quite a sight. She loved to cook, and I loved to watch.
Out of Julius and me, I was definitely the one closer to her. I wasn’t lying when I said Julius was a lot like her, and the subconscious part of me had a field day contemplating what the hell that meant.
She picked the perfect time to show up. I was too burned out from everything crashing and burning to give a shit. Or at least that was what I told myself as I sat at the kitchen island, drinking down the bottle of water in one long gulp.
She turned on the stove, grabbing bacon and eggs out of the fridge. My mind chose that moment to take me back to another place and time when I used to sit in this exact spot and watch her cook for me. It was one of the reasons I wasn’t there when Isla would cook. To avoid this memory right here—the one I was living as if nothing had changed in the past seven years.
I wanted to go off on her, truly I did, but I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She was who she was, and I didn’t believe for a second she was sober or had changed.
She’d danced this number before.
She knew the whole damn routine like the back of her hand.
This wasn’t the first time she went MIA. She and Joe loved going on benders and not being home for days at a time. This was just the first time she had vanished for years.
I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her, and I just needed to remember that. My flying off the handle would only let her know she was getting to me, and I refused to give her the satisfaction.
Fuck her.
“It’s like jail food in there.”
“You would know.”
She giggled again. “Have you been eating in there at all? You look famished.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Kraven…” She eyed me, grinning. “How about we start over, okay? Tell me about school.”
“School?”
“Yeah, catch me up on your life. What’s going on?”
“Alright.” I gave in, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m a juvenile delinquent, and you just signed me out of a detention center. How do you think it’s going?”
“Kraven, you’ve always been a handful. Do you remember that time I lost you at the store?”
“Yeah, you were high and lost me.”
She shook her head, laughing and ignoring me. “You hid under the clothes rack. You’ve always been a little troublemaker.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Ah! Witty too. My boy.” She caressed my face. “I love you.”
Hearing her say that did something to me—it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, and it wasn’t a bad one either. I was somewhere between feeling like she kicked me in the balls and then sliced me open to see what she left behind. Using the same knife she used to cut us out of her life.
Except it was still dripping, echoing loudly in the room.
I didn’t move her hand this time. It felt soft against my skin.
“I know you still love me. I’m your mommy. Don’t you remember all the good times?”
“You mean the ones when you used to leave us with strangers to go buy drugs?” I sarcastically smiled, adding, “Those were the best.”
“What about all the birthday parties! You know what?” She squeezed my face. “We should have a party! Like old times! We can invite the whole neighborhood! You and Julius can play for everyone!” She spun around the room, swaying her dress.
I was sideswiped with yet another memory of how she used to do this exact thing.
“It will be perfect! I’ll plan and do everything!”
I shook off the memory, eliciting these emotions I spent years running from.
“That sounds like my worst nightmare.”
She caressed my cheek one last time before she cracked the eggs into the pan. “You’re so stubborn. Just like your father.”