Lance didn’t think it would be quite that easy. But Tanner might have a point. If she was going to apologize, he wanted to hear it. Both of them deserved to hear it.
Reluctantly, he pressed accept.
“Hi, Mom,” he said with a polite coolness.
“Lance? Lance!” His mother whispered fiercely through a broken sob.
“What’s wrong?” He pushed at Tanner frantically, struggling to sit up.
“He’s here! I don’t know what to do! He just showed up with no warning! He’s in the living room right now—talking to your brothers!”
Lance didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. There was only one man who could turn his mother into a sniveling, panic-stricken wreck.
“Where’s Jeff?” Lance asked, as he stood up. He was aware of Tanner anxiously waiting to find out what was going on, but there was no time to explain. He hit the stairs at a run,taking the steps two at a time, and raced to his bedroom closet. Grabbing some pants and a shirt, he put her on speaker and dressed as fast as he could.
“He’s—he’s—” she was stuttering with nerves and crying at the same time. “He’s out of state for a conference. He’s coming back tonight but I can’t—” she broke off suddenly with a harsh sob.
“Call the cops, Mom. I’m on my way, but you have to call—” she didn’t let him finish.
“No!” She protested vehemently. No longer stuttering or fearful. “Not here. Not again!”
Lance blew out a harsh breath born of age-old anger and frustration. History was repeating itself. She was dead set against the neighbors finding out about her former life. She’d do nothing to draw public attention to the man with whom she’d had three children and to that part of her life she pretended had never happened. If she called the police, there would be questions. News that an ex-con had fathered her children would spread like wildfire. Her reputation would be in tatters. The next barbecue would be nothing short of a hot bed of gossip—with her as the main source of snide whispers and cruel laughter—and that—that was intolerable. Far worse than anything her ex-husband ever did or ever could do. Lance was left with no choice but to run to the rescue like he always did. Snatching up his phone, wallet, and keys, he raced back down the stairs.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t—just don’t do anything to make him angry enough to start throwing punches, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed while still sobbing and then hung up. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he headed for the front door, only to find Tanner blocking his path.
He tensed, anticipating an argument about his leaving. But much to his surprise, Tanner simply pulled the door open,stepped back to let Lance go first, and then followed him to the car.
“You should stay home. This is not your fight.”
“Sure, I’ll get right on that. Just give me the keys.” Tanner extended his hand and wiggled his fingers.
“I’ll—” Lance began to protest but Tanner cut him off.
“You’re in no condition to drive anywhere. Keys. Now,” he ordered firmly. Tanner looked fully prepared to throw down over it, so Lance relented and tossed him the keys.
They’d been on the road for awhile, cruising along in silence. Tanner knew the way, so he didn’t bother asking for directions. He just drove as fast as he could without attracting the attention of law enforcement. Meanwhile, Lance grew increasingly frustrated that they couldn’t go faster, thinking of all ways things could go south before they even arrived. His father’s penchant for violence was irrefutable. He’d proven many times over that he could, and would, beat the shit out of anyone who pissed him off. There were no laws and no limits in his world. Lance was terrified of what his father might do without anyone there to defend his mother, Jeremy, and Parker. He could barely breathe just thinking about it. Gradually, his fear turned into blazing anger at his father for re-entering their lives. Dammit, if only his mother had had the goddamned sense to call the cops the instant the bastard had shown up at her house. Lance swore this ongoing bullshit with his father would end today. Once and for all.
“It’s going to be a shitshow,” Lance felt compelled to warn Tanner, perhaps unnecessarily, but maybe talking this through would help him calm down and come up with a plan. Letting Tanner see his demons might help balance the scales a bit in their relationship, too. After all, it was only fair since Tanner had already shared his. “He’s a drunk and an asshole. I don’t knowhow he got my mother’s address, but—it’s definitely not a social call. He either wants money or he’s drunk and looking for a fucking punching bag.”
Tanner nodded as he reached for Lance’s left hand.
“Maybe we should call the cops,” Tanner suggested, his gaze focused on the road.
“No cops,” Lance said, shaking his head. “At least not yet. My mother went nuts when I told her to call them. She’s more afraid of the neighbors finding out about my old man than she is of what he might do. I’ll try to deal with him myself. If it doesn’t work, then—” He stopped abruptly, refusing to entertain the possibility of failure.
“So, what’s your plan for this operation?” Tanner made it sound as if they were preparing to enter a war zone, and maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what they were doing.
“Get him out of the house as fast as fucking possible. He’s with my brothers right now, and they don’t really know him like I do. They were really young when he went to prison, so they don’t remember much about him. They don’t know how dangerous he is.”
“You said he usually wants money, right?”
“Usually. Sometimes he just wants a big fight and to tear shit up around the house.” Lance recalled endless, pointless arguments, holes punched in the walls, and splatters of blood on his mother’s beige carpet.
“Then that’s how we are going to get him out of the house. I’ve got two grand in my wallet right now. We’ll lure him out of the house with it,” Tanner stated confidently.
Lance shook his head. “Oh, hell no! He’ll burn through it before we can find him again. Besides, if we give in, he’ll be back next week for more. I’m not playing this game with him!”
