“I don’t see him–”
Instead of allowing him to finish his sentence, she punched him again.
“If you disrespect him ever again, I will sew your fucking lips shut. He’s your father’s good friend. He’smyfriend. More than that, he’s our family, motherfucker. I will stomp on your goddamn liver if youeverdisrespect him again. Am I fucking clear, Ryan Matthew Taylor?”
Fuck, she was hitting him with his full name. He was so fucked.
“Mom–”
She hit himagain.
“Don’t fucking ‘Mom’ me, you little asshole. Say yes ma’am and be grateful I don’t make you write a fucking apology booklet.”
“A booklet?” he asked incredulously, wiping the blood from his mouth. “That should be a letter. And I’m almost seventeen. You couldn’t make me–”
Her punch to his stomach doubled him over.
“You’remyson. I’ll make you do handstands. You do what the fuck I tell you or I will fuck you up. It’s as simple as that. I’m telling you to respect Mortician. I’m not interested in anything else, but ‘yes ma’am’.”
“Even if I don’t agree?”
She gasped and stiffened. He expected another hit, but the hurt in her face was even worse.
“I’ll call him uncle,” he told her.
“Why, son?”
He wasn’t sure what she meant, so he looked at her warily. “Why what?”
“Why do you feel the way you do about Mortician?”
Ryan flushed.
Shoving her fingers through her hair, she cursed. “I loved my grandfather once. But he ended up being the vilest motherfucker ever. I know why you feel as you do about Mort and I’m so fucking disappointed in you, Ryan.” Her eyes glistened and she blinked, holding in her tears and horrifying him. “Why didn’t you talk to me or Val?”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“The truth. When we hold things in, especially if we are conflicted with what your fucked up friends are filling your head with as opposed to your upbringing. And what you know is right.”
“He was always about CJ, Mom. Mortician never saw me,” he said, realizing his mistake when she fucking hit him again, bloodying his nose as she had his lip. “This is child abuse!”
“Fuck you. I never fucked you up as a fucking child,” she said through gritted teeth and sank her nails into his arms.
He screamed.
“Is that why you took those fucking photos of Harley? Because of how you feel about Mortician?”
“What? No!”
Her kick knocked his legs from underneath him and he fell on his ass. “So you did take those photos without her permission. I knew Harley was just protecting you.”
He froze and looked up at her. “Harley protected me?” he asked stupidly.
If he hadn’t seen the movement of her leg, she would’ve kicked him in his face. He darted away from her.
“How could you? No, I know why, motherfucker,” she yelled, stalking him. “Because of how you feel about Mortician.”
“That isn’t true! Harley’s Black,” Ryan protested, crawling to the other side of the sofa, screaming when he met her legs and reeling back so fast he hit his chin on the floor.
