Lowborn—to Mom, that was the worst insult. She used it for anyone not born with a golden spoon up their ass. Or those who generally pissed her off.
“…might not be having an episode but… are not behaving normally… haven’t invited us in, and we drove all this way.”
“I’m fine, and now is not a good time for a visit.” He repeated the words slowly, hoping they would penetrate.
Mom threw her hands in the air in a gesture of unrestrained exasperation. It was always like that with her. They never meshed. Everything he said, everything he did was always the opposite of what she wanted from him. Always.
Honey’s scent fluttered to him an instant before she slid in next to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a tight squeeze. Tension that he hadn’t realized resided in all his muscles eased under her touch. Her hand slid up to his cheek.
The gesture wasn’t because she was in pain; it was so he could hear. Her thoughtfulness melted his resistance.
Mom’s gaze locked on Honey’s hand on his cheek. He covered Honey’s hand with his own, feeling like he needed to protect her fingers from the calculating look in Mom’s eyes.
“Hi, there. I’m Evanee. You must be Lathan’s parents. He’s got your build”—she nodded toward his father, who was staring at her with open admiration—“and your eyes.” She nodded toward Mom.
“Linda and Nathan.” Lathan supplied their names.
“Oh, I get it. L from Linda and athan from Nathan. What a cool way to name your child!” Honey’s voice was filled with enthusiasm.
Too bad he hadn’t had time to warn her about his mom.
“You’ve got a girl.” He hadn’t heard his father’s voice since he was thirteen, but there was no mistaking the incredulity in his tone. “And a good-looking one at that.” He winked at Honey.
She giggled. “You’re not so bad yourself. I see where Lathan gets his looks.”
“Like father, like son.” Dad smiled, and Lathan realized he hadn’t actually seen his own father smile in… He couldn’t even remember the last time. Was his family that miserable? Yeah, it was.
Mom focused on Honey. “Eevvaneee…” The way Mom spoke her name sounded like they were long-lost friends finally reunited. “So nice to meet you, darling.” She reached out her perfectly manicured hand. A hand whose hardest workout came from lifting all the gold and diamonds she insisted on wearing.
Honey reached out with her splinted hand. Her fingernails jagged, her skin red.
Mom hesitated, a look of revulsion crossing her features.
“I keep forgetting about this thing.” Honey touched her splint—mistaking the meaning of Mom’s look. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise.” Honey clasped hands with his mom, pumping enthusiastically—completely unaware that she was holding the hand of a snob.
“He’s a handsome one, isn’t he?” Mom’s gaze flipped to him only momentarily, before returning her full attention to Honey. He hadn’t heard his mom’s voice since he was thirteen, and even he could hear the over-the-top friendly tone.
Honey looked up at him, warm affection naked on her face. “He sure is.”
“I so wish he hadn’t destroyed his face with that ghastly tattoo. Is that why you’re covering it up?” Her tone was all fake innocence. Her face the picture of angelic purity. “You can’t stand it either?”
Mom’s tongue wasn’t sharp. It was a surgical laser. But her words no longer hurt him. He’d long since realized he’d never be his mother’s image of a perfect son. Her perpetual anger at him was really a reflection of her own frustration at not being able to present an immaculate family image to all her society friends.
“Evanee. What a unique name.” Dad’s words rushed out—an attempt at distraction from Mom’s nastiness. Which was rare for him. He hardly ever poked his head out of the foxhole when Mom had her sass on. “How very nice to meet you.”
Lathan heard Honey’s silence. Smelled her anger.
“You come here to Lathan’s home—uninvited—then insult him?” Her fingers on his cheek flexed, and her short fingernails dug into his skin, but not enough to be painful. “What’s wrong with you?”
Dr. Stone was right. She was as much his protector as he was hers. Damn if he couldn’t help smiling like a goof.
Mom raised her hands as if in surrender. “Oh. No. Dear. I mean no harm. No disrespect. It’s just with his episodes…”
The smile fell off his face and crashed on the floor.
“Well…he does unpredictable things. Like tattoo his cheek. Or lose control.”
Evanee looked up him. “What’s she mean by episode?”
“Lathaniel Montgomery.” Mom clasped her hands to her chest, feigning shock. The woman was theatrical enough to have been an actress. “You haven’t told her? She has a right to know. Evanee, my son has—”
“Enough.” Lathan roared the word loud enough that everyone jumped. “Leave. Now.”
“Evanee.” Mom stepped forward, one arm open wide, looking like she wanted to scoop Honey up into a protective hug. “You should come with us. He’s upset.” Mom sounded so sweet, so sincere, so much like a snake.
Lathan didn’t wait for Honey’s response. He dragged her back from the doorway, sent an apologetic look toward his father, and then slammed the door in their faces. Locked it.
Honey’s anger at Mom faded to the scent of garlic. Fear.
She pulled away from him. Everything inside him urged him not to let her go, but he did.
*
“What are your episodes?” Evanee moved in front of Lathan to make certain he could see her every word. The sharp planes of his face hardened with an emotion that lived somewhere between anger, hurt, and sorrow. Touching him would soothe whatever he was feeling. She reached for his hand and held it between both of hers.
His skin was hot and dry. He latched on to her, his grip secure and strong, and yet she felt the uncertainty beneath his flesh and bones.
“Does it have to do with what happened at Mom’s earlier? You know, with your eye?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“But I need to know right now.”