“Excuse me.” I barrel through the door, pushing her aside, not wanting to see or deal with her at the moment.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she mutters, closing the door behind me.
I head toward my bedroom, ready to shut the door behind me, but she is hot on my heels.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. It’s been a long day.” After tossing my stuff onto my bed, I kick off the heels I’m wearing. “Did you need something?” She’s still standing in the doorway looking me over.
“I was gonna invite you to go out with me, but I don’t need your attitude getting in the way of me trying to find my next meal ticket.”
I roll my eyes. “No thanks.”
“I would’ve thought Matthew coming all of the way down here to try and win you back would’ve put some pep in your step.”
My head pops up at the mentioning of my ex. It reminds me of something he said. “You spoke with him? Gave him my address and told him I was at Charlie’s.”
Her eyes enlarge but she quickly shrugs it off. “He called your cell phone one day while you were in the shower. I thought it was mine so I answered.”
“And you figured it’d be a good idea to tell him where I live and where I’d be?”
“The boy practically begged me for your information. I thought you loved him. Shit, I don’t know. You were with him for what, eight, nine years? Had your head all up his ass. Got a new wardrobe for him.”
“My new clothes weren’t for him.”
“Oh, they must’ve been for Emanuel. I don’t know.”
“They weren’t for him either.” Not completely, anyway.
“Then who were they for?”
“Forme.”My answer comes out angrier than I’d intended. “I dress for me now.”
My mother looks totally confused and perplexed. “Whatever. I see you’re dealing with some shit. I’ll let you handle that. I’m going out. Don’t expect me back home tonight.” She waves a hand in the air and disappears from my doorway.
Seconds later, I hear the front door open and close.
Sighing, I fall to my bed. I’m used to my mother’s instability by now. Her nonchalant attitude toward my feelings bothers me less and less as time goes by. But the ache in my chest has nothing to do with my mother. It has everything to do with the man across the hall.
The man that I love.
The man I think I just broke up with.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emanuel
“What the hell crawled up your ass and died?!” Don growls as I toss the truck’s hose down the length of the garage.
“Nothing!” I retort, kicking the kinks out of the hose so I can finish rolling it back up and sticking it into the truck where it belongs.
“Oh shit,” Sean sighs. “I know this fucking look. Seen this shit with Carter when Michelle dropped his ass like a bad habit.”
“I remember that shit,” Don cosigns. “What the hell did you do?”
My gaze bounces between Don and Sean, and I give them both them middle finger. “I said, fuck off.”
“Every relationship in this damn station house has to come with some form of drama,” Sean sighs. “That’s why you fucks will never know whether I’m in a relationship or not. I’ll pop up with a whole wife on your asses and you’d never be the wiser. Keeping my business to myself.”
