I turned to her. “They know I’m here.”
“Please, please come with me.” She gripped my arms, like she was going to forcibly pull me to her car. “Don’t stay here. I can out-drive them. Let me take care of you. Let me do something for you.”
“I’m in no danger from them. I already spoke with them last Wednesday morning. They were waiting for me at Hank’s.”
“They were waiting for you last Wednesday? After we outran them the night before?” Shelly’s features contorted with confusion. “Then why are they here?”
“To finish the conversation, I suppose.”
“About?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell you that.”
She flinched, like my words—my apparent lack of trust—were a blow.
I didn’t get a chance to explain or soften my statement because the engines cut behind me, drawing Shelly’s eyes over my shoulder. “It’s that woman. And the dumb one, Drill.”
I smirked at the venom in her tone as well as the calculating look in her eye.
“Will you go? Please?”
Her gaze landed back on mine, held for a beat, then she turned away and walked farther into the garage without a word. I watched her go as far as the Master Lock toolbox she’d been working on sorting through, and then gathered a bracing breath and faced the newcomers.
“We weren’t finished talking last week.” Christine pulled off her gloves, tilting her head to the side, her long, red hair falling over her shoulder.
“I’m not sure what there is to say.” I crossed my arms because I needed to. Even better would have been Shelly’s arms around me, hugging me from behind.
But that’s not ever going to happen.
Drill dismounted, but loitered by his bike, like he wanted to give us privacy.
“Don’t you have any questions for your momma?” Christine asked softly, coming to stand directly in front of me.
Her question made me flinch, but I knew she saw it.
A small smile curved her mouth, one that looked foreign on her features. “I am so proud of you.”
I didn’t know what to say, what she wanted from me. Worse, I didn’t know what I wanted from her, or why her being proud of me made any difference. But it did. And that felt like a betrayal of Bethany, of my family.
I wasn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t given this shit-hurricane any thought. I’d ignored it. I didn’t know what to do.
This woman is my mother. And a stranger. And an enemy. Did I want to know her? If you’d asked me yesterday, the answer would have been a resounding no.
But today . . .
“You needed time to come to terms, I get that. I do.” She shuffled a half step closer. “But what I wanted to say was, I love you. I love you so much, Beau.”
I was so damn tired of my chest hurting. Trying to regulate my breathing through my nose helped marginally. But every word out of her mouth only served to confuse me more. I could have a mother again. If I had kids, they would have a grandmother.
In this storm, Christine’s was a voice I couldn’t trust, but the only one I could hear. Why now? Why tell me this now? And why not Duane?
“I’ve always loved you. That’s why I gave you up. That’s why I let that woman raise you. But it tore me up inside, every day, to be without you. I couldn’t stand you not knowing anymore. It clawed at me. It’s been such a struggle, so hard on your momma.”
I couldn’t read her, what was sincere, what was bullshit. I was too close. She was too close. And she looked like me, she looked like Duane. Now that I was paying attention, her mannerisms reminded me of my twin and I trusted him more than anyone.
“What do you want from me?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question, but there it was.
She reached up and cupped my face. I both shrank from and leaned into the contact.
“I want my son by me. It’s time. It’s time you learned about your real family. I’m your real momma.”
I’d barely registered what she’d said, the warm smile on her face, when Shelly’s voice—cold as ice—sliced through the moment.
“You need to leave.”
A split second later, Shelly was there. She’d stepped between us—between Christine and me—and pressed her back to my front, grabbing behind her for a fistful of my coveralls.
“And who the hell are you?” Christine looked from Shelly to me.
“Leave.” Shelly took a menacing step forward, releasing the fabric of my sleeve. “Go, leave now.”
Christine’s eyes narrowed into slits as they moved over her. “I am here to speak to my son—”
“Beau is not your son.”
“Want to see one of them DNA tests?” Christine spat, then to me, her eyes pleading, she said, “We’re family, ain’t we?”
I couldn’t keep up.
Shelly was there.
Shelly knows.
I looked between the two women, uncertain how to act or what to say.
Meanwhile, Shelly inserted herself in Christine’s line of sight, her voice dripping with contempt. “You might’ve provided the maturation chamber in which he survived prior to drawing oxygen from Earth’s atmosphere, and you might’ve donated the original genetic material from whence his cells multiplied, but you are not his family. You are an interloper, an imposter, and an intruder.”
Christine’s eyes flashed and she pushed her face forward while shoving at Shelly’s chest. “Listen here, bitch—”
Oh hell no.
Acting on instinct, I stepped forward. “Hey now,” I blocked Shelly with my body and placed a hand on Christine’s shoulder to push her back. “Don’t speak to her that way.”
Suddenly, Drill was there, standing next to Christine, looking from me to Shelly as though assessing who posed more of a threat.
“But you’ll let her talk to your momma like that?”
“Yes.” I didn’t think before I spoke.
Christine seemed to be fighting her shock, and also fighting to hide something else, maybe rage, maybe disappointment. “Beau—”
“Leave.” I pointed to her motorcycle. “I didn’t ask you here.”
All the softness, like a poorly drawn mask, a pitiful pretense, fell from her features, leaving them twisted and hard.
And angry.
“We are not finished here,” she promised, “not by a long shot. You owe me, boy!”
Shelly stepped around me and moved like she was going to charge the older woman. I caught her around the shoulders at the last moment, holding her back.
Not to be deterred, she hollered at Christine, “If you ever come near him again, I will remove your trapezius muscles with long nose vise-grip pliers!”
“I’d like to see you try,” Christine taunted even as she backed away.
Shelly growled, struggling against my hold, so I gathered her against my chest and wrapped my arms around her body.
“She isn’t worth it, Shell,” I murmured unthinkingly, and the words felt right.
Unable to break from my grip, Shelly yelled at Christine’s departing form, “I will solder your eyelids with a TIG welder and it will be REALLY PAINFUL.”
“You need to get your woman under control.” Christine tossed her hair as she straddled her bike, sending Shelly a look bursting with loathing and spite, and maybe a little fear. “Man up. Your daddy wouldn’t hesitate. He would know what to do.”
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