I swing my keyring around my finger and catch it in my hand. “What’s going on?”
Her lips form a flat line. “You know that even though I put my own boundaries in place with your mother, that I still occasionally check on her and hear things.”
Okay, yeah. I’ve always known that. Aunt Bess is well known for her position with Second Chances. But also, it wouldn’t take much for her to pay someone off for news about her sister.
“I was informed your mom was taken to the emergency room at Harrison General Thanksgiving night. She was found unconscious. They ran labs and found drugs in her system.”
I look away. She showed up there because of me. Iwas the one who dialed 911 and gave them the address because I couldn’t stay and keep an eye on her. Aunt Bess walks closer, and I hate the way her eyes soften. There’s empathy there, like she’s sorry for something she hasn’t said yet.
“She’s okay. They gave her what she needed to come down from her…high.”
“That’s good.”
What would Aunt Bess think of me if she knew I called then left? That I haven’t gone to see her since?
“That’s not all, Colson.”
What else could’ve happened?
I look around the room, half expecting one of the guys to barrel their way into our conversation.
“Don’t worry, we’re alone,” she says before blowing out a heavy breath. “She was released the following day, but Harrison PD picked her up last night for possession with the intent to deliver.”
Jesus fuck.
Possession,andintent to deliver,roll around in my gut like a bad case of food poisoning.
If Aunt Bess wasn’t looking at me like she is, I’d ask if she was kidding. She wouldn’t joke about something like this though. Anything regarding my mom she takes seriously because of her struggles with addiction despite the distance she’s put there.
Dread—because I just got done paying Finn off—consumes me. Didn’t she learn her lesson from that? Fuck. I gave away thousands of dollars to keep her safe. My next step was going to get her the help she needs, getting her back in rehab and working her through the steps.
My stomach aches, my body brimming with the worry of knowing they’ll likely give her time. I sink down onto the couch. Aunt Bess sits next to me. If she only knew what I’ve been through these past few months…
“It’s her first offense, so it might not be as bad as what you’re making it up to be in your head.”
Yeah, I’m worried that they’re going to lock her behind bars for who the hell knows how long, but I’m more frustrated that she seems to continue to take. I told her not to make more deals with people, and she blatantly disregarded it.
What the hell was she thinking?
“They’re granting her bail.”
I nod. “How much?”
“I don’t know, but I can find out.” Aunt Bess rests a hand on my knee. “Colson, I’m not necessarily sure it should be paid.”
Turning to look at her, the worry lining her eyes is evident. You don’t have to be a genius to see she still cares for her sister. I give her a little piece of what I’ve been keeping from her, finally admitting a morsel of truth. “She needs help.”
“Well, that’s clear, considering where she’s at and where she’s been.”
“No.” I let out a haggard breath. “She relapsed, Aunt Bess.”
Way too fucking long ago,I want to add but don’t. It’s not like it’ll make this any better than it already is, nor will it magically make Mom addiction free.
Aunt Bess’s brows knit together, and the sorrow on her face hits me square in the jaw. She’s upset and hurt that I didn’t tell her but how could I have?
“Oh Colson, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wouldn’t have been fair to bring it up. I know you want nothing to do with her.”
