“You think Chey will buy that?” he asks her.
A wry smile spreads on her face, and she says, “That you were a jerk? Yes, I think it’ll require that she use her imagination, but I think it’ll work.” I try to keep the laughter building in my chest from erupting, but it’s no use. I dissolve into a fit of chuckles and finally calm down with a happy sigh.
“You’re hilarious, Ma,” he says. “Now go distract Chey so I can get her out of here.”
Giving me a small smile, his mother points at her chest and says, “I’m Lisa.” Before I can even formally introduce myself, Grady is shoving her into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. When he turns around he’s not all easy smiles and sarcastic glances anymore. His face is hard, and a scowl has found its way to his lips.
“How hard are you going to make this on me?” he asks. I try to summon the strength I need in order to explain myself.
“I haven’t made anything hard on you. All I did was create an explanation my boss might be able to live with,” I say.
“Fuck your boss,” he says. The hostility in his voice reminds me of how he stormed out of the office after the incident between Cheyenne and I during her last counseling session. Margot had spent a solid five minutes muttering on and on about something to do with Grady that I wasn’t even paying attention to. But now I’m wondering if I should have.
“You got any kids?” he asks. I tense at the question. “Of course you don’t. My kid’s mom ain’t around because she’s one fucked up bitch. My brother, Chey’s godfather, is fucking dead, I got work shit, and there’s nothing I can do to make any of that shit any better. But you— she likes you. You think my kid needs to see you at school every day and think we had a relationship that went to shit? You think that’s gonna be good for her?”
I didn’t know. Cheyenne never mentioned her mom, nor did she mention her godfather. I’d seen the news reports about the biker who died in a head-on collision with a SUV just a week or so ago. I knew it had been a member of Forsaken who died, but… I didn’t know. If there is anything he could say to make me regret my lie, that would be it. I let my shoulders slump as I ingest the weight of his comment. I don’t have kids—not even close to it in fact—and I don’t come from divorced parents. So I guess I really don’t know what any of that’s like. And if my little lie causes Cheyenne any kind of grief, then I’m sorry for that. I was just so focused on aggravating him that I didn’t think about how my lie would affect Cheyenne. Still, twenty-five grand may be nothing to scoff at, but it won’t keep me afloat for even a year. Money or no money, I just can’t afford to lose my job.
“I need my job,” I say.
“I don’t really give a shit what you need,” he hisses.
“That’s pretty damn apparent,” I say, louder than I intend. “I was just doing my job and trying to help a kid that nobody else seemed to give a crap about!”
“How many times I got to tell you—keep your mouth shut about my kid,” he shouts. His voice booms and practically reverberates off the walls of the room.
“As many times as it takes for you to listen to me,” I yell back.
“Shut up!” he screams. He crosses the room, presses his balled fists into the mattress on either side of me. He’s so close that when he huffs, his breath heats my skin. He’s so angry that he’s practically shaking.
I lean forward so fast that I accidentally ram my nose into his. The impact stings, but I only pull back an inch and force myself not to flinch. I’m so angry and feel so guilty that my heart slams in my chest. When I speak, I keep my voice low and steady.
“Look, it’s done.” This man has worn the sense right out of me. I can’t think of another situation where I became so thoroughly fed-up that I totally lost myself. Grady is just a special sort of infuriating. I feel awful about Cheyenne, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. “You can’t rewrite history, so just roll with it.”
“Fuck,” he says, pushing off the bed. He huffs and mumbles to himself a moment before turning around and facing the wall next to the door. His right arm twitches, and he draws back his left leg, brings it forward, and slams it into the wall in front of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”