“I caught your fight a few months ago. You’re good. Really good.”
Avoiding my question by kissing ass? Not only is he pathetic, but he’s also a spineless douchebag. Fatigue washes over me at the thought of fighting my mom’s battles after I just got done saving my brother from being blown away by his own shit storm.
“It’s been a long day.” I set my eyes on Tom. “Would you like me to walk you out before I hit the sack?”
My mom’s uncomfortable giggle fills the room. “Don’t worry about him, Tom. He’s just overprotective.” She pinches my cheek like I’m still five years old. “Always has been.”
Tom grabs his sports coat off the back of the dining room chair. “No, I believe I can walk myself out. Good to meet you, Mason.”
Suuure, dude.
“Oh, I’ll come with you.” My mom wiggles her eyebrows, and I almost vomit in my throat.
Why did I think coming home would be a good idea?
Trix.
Shit. I check the glowing numbers on the digital DVD clock. It’s after midnight. Motherfuck.
“Right, I’m off to bed.”
“Okay, honey.” My mom pushes up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek, practically running after Tom who’s made it halfway to the door. “I’m glad you’re home.”
She chases after Tom, and I head for my old room, pulling out my phone before I close the bedroom door behind me.
Two texts from earlier tonight, both from Trix. I’m smiling before I even read them, and just seeing her name light up on my phone makes tonight feel like a distant memory.
I drop back on the bed and kick my shoes off, my feet hanging off the end. She was thinking about me before she went to bed. I contemplate calling her, but this was hours ago. Damn, I’d love to hear her voice right now, but it’d be a dick move to call and wake her up.
I head to the hall bathroom where I dumped my toothbrush earlier. After I take a leak and brush my teeth, I head back to bed with heavy steps. I’ve lived in this house since I was seven years old, and it’s never not felt like home. But something about it now feels foreign.
“Mason?” My mom strolls down the hall from the front door, chin high as if she’s not broke, living in a rundown house alone, and sleeping with a married man. She tilts her head and smiles. “Is everything okay back in Las Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “You haven’t been home in a while, so . . . why now?”
I shrug, trying to make my reason for coming to Santa Cruz seem like a casual visit when it sure as fuck is not. “There’s a girl I’m—”
“A girl?” Her eyes grow as wide as her grin. “Here? Do I know her?”
“Mom, calm down. No, you don’t know her. She’s from San Jose, lives in Vegas now. She came home to visit family. I tagged along to spend some time with her.”
Her face contorts with disapproval. “You ‘tagged along’? No.” She wags a finger at me. “No, no, no. You don’t want to do that, honey. It makes you seem desperate. Women like a man who’s hard to get.”
And what man’s harder to get than the married kind. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “She’s not like most women.”
“All women like the chase.” She props a hand on her narrow hip. “Trust me. I know.”
I bite my tongue to avoid the outpouring of angry words that force their way to my lips. Taking relationship advice from a liar, cheater, and a woman who has always been looking for lust in reprehensible places? No thanks.
“I’m serious. Make sure you hang out with your friends while you’re here; see if your brother can take you out. You know he’s made quite the turnaround.” Her eyes flash with pride. “His car is worth more than my house!”
Bought with drug money, not that she’d care. If she only knew how close he came to being killed in that alley, and that’s only one time that I know of.
“You still talk to D’s dad?”
Her expression sobers. “I see him around town, hear his bike coming, and try to duck out of his way. I ran into him at a bar about six months ago, but I left right after he got there. He doesn’t need me anymore. Ever since Drake turned eighteen, they have a relationship of their own.”
“A relationship? Mom, Drake works for the guy.”
She shrugs. “I figured he did. Makes sense, I guess. Keeping it in the family.”
Keeping drug dealing, gun smuggling, and God knows what else in the family? Nothing has changed. Not a single fuckin’ thing.
I throw my thumb over my shoulder, motioning to my room. “I’m gonna hit the sack.” And I can’t stand to hear another word of her cluelessness.
“Okay, sure. Sleep tight.” She pats me on the arm. “I’m glad you’re home.”
This isn’t my home.
My thoughts crank back to a few nights ago, in my apartment, tangled up in bed with Trix, her purple and blond hair tossed around my chest and neck.
That’s home.