I groaned as I pushed myself off the wall, making my way to the door, not giving a fuck that I was only in briefs. Whoever they were could deal with it for waking me up at this ungodly hour. Digging my knuckle into my eye, I was about to yank the door open just as a screeching voice pierced my skull, sounding like a mix between one of those whistling firecrackers and an angry seagull.
“Marcus-Aurelius Remus Hansen. I am sick of you sulking in this dark house like a freaking teenager who had his favorite toy taken away. Open this damn door, or I will kick it down.”
Good freaking god.
I was too damn tired to deal with this today. I laid my head against the front door, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. Believe me, I was beating myself up enough without bringing my mother into the mix to tell me what an asshole I was.
I already knew.
I stepped away from the door as quietly as I could and sank back down on the couch, keeping my feet on the ground but laying sideways and scratching my beard. It had gotten out of control, the blonde scruff growing every which way, but I couldn’t care less. Working nights, Chief went easy on us with the way we looked, and he let it slide that I looked like a filthy motorcycle gang member.
My mother had thankfully given up, and my eyes were getting heavy when a shattering crash sounded on my front porch. I jerked up with a start, wiping drool from my mouth and running to the door, throwing it open, thinking Mom had hurt herself or someone was vandalizing my property. I was not expecting to see her on my sidewalk with her arms crossed and a down-right pissed expression on her face standing beside a shattered topiary pot.
“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” I hollered, stepping on the porch in my bare feet and briefs. Shards of broken orange pottery littered the sidewalk, along with a shit ton of soil. Mom kicked aside a huge piece and marched up the steps, pushing past me and inside.
“Did you just break one of my plants?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the sun like some sickened vampire before following her inside and closing the door.
“No,” she said, throwing open the curtains in the living room and walking to the kitchen to do the same. I closed them behind her, picking Phoebe up from her corner of the couch and laying her in her cat bed before following Mom into the kitchen. “I just broke one of the plants I brought over to your house. I would have broken the other one if you hadn’t opened the damn door, Marcus.”
“My shift ended at nine-thirty, Mom. I’m dead on my feet,” I said, picking up a discarded T-shirt and gym shorts from the floor and pulling them on with a yawn. “I don’t feel like cleaning up broken pottery right now.”
“I truly couldn’t give two shits at this point. Your brothers and I have sat back and watched you cocoon yourself in this house and throw yourself into your work, and it has to stop. Enough is enough.”
Don’t be an asshole to your mom. Don’t be an asshole to your mom.
I closed my eyes and repeated the mantra two more times, breathing through my nose with my eyes closed until I felt my anger subside.
“You better stop whatever shit you’re saying in your head right now, Marcus. Open your eyes and talk to me. Your brothers are your family, and you shut them out.” She leaned forward and grasped my hands, pulling me down to her level and patting my cheek. “You and I need to talk, okay?”
My shoulders slumped in defeat, and I nodded my head. If it would get me to sleep faster, I’d throw some sappy feeling her way. It was a copout, but I wasn’t going to rip the band-aid off my freshly scabbed wound. Yesterday was the first time I’d slept for more than a few hours, and I didn’t want to do anything to jinx it.
“Come on,” she said, motioning to the back porch. I followed her, grabbing two beers from the fridge, then opening the sliding glass door and lowering myself to one of the oversized Adirondack chairs with a groan.
I cracked one and passed it to her. She took a long swallow, grimaced at the taste, then sat it on the small table between us. “You look like shit, by the way. And what the hell are you building back here? You’re ruining the landscaping in the backyard.”
“Nothing. Just a bunch of crap I have to throw away. It’s always so good to see you, Mom.”
“Don’t be a smartass. Now, did I ever tell you what happened on your father’s first day on the job?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, cracking my beer and leaning back, crossing one ankle over the other and looking at a lone squirrel in our large oak tree. I closed my eyes, and my head sunk to my chest, hoping I could catch a few winks as she talked.
Nope.
She leaned across the table and slapped my chest, making me jerk forward with a start.
“Jesus, Mom. I’m awake.”
“Sit up and drink your beer, or I will give you a titty-twister that will bring you to your knees.”
I cringed, and my arms immediately covered my chest before I sat up, swinging my legs to one side. I took a swallow, doing my best not to glare at her, mostly for threatening to pinch my damn nipples.
“That’s better. Anyway, it was right after we bought this house, and I was pregnant with Maverick. Your dad wasn’t gone five minutes before he got his first call. It was freaking Loony, Marcus. Back then, even when she was married to Neville, God rest his soul—she always got these insane ideas in her head. She wanted to raise goats, fucking goats. Somehow, one of those square-eyed little weird-o’s got on her roof.”
She paused and shook her head before taking another drink of her beer and leaning back in the chair. She kicked off her white tennis shoes and looked over the backyard like she was looking thirty-five years into the past.
I could imagine Dad in his old Dodge Diplomat squad car, pulling up to Loony’s house with his partner, probably rolling his eyes wondering how the hell this was his first-ever call on duty.
“Your dad got a ladder from her shed and climbed on the roof trying the get the damn goat. He managed to get the stupid thing off, passing it to James, his partner, but he fell coming down the ladder.”
