Of course he doesn’t.
On screen, Tony Stark is talking, fast, arrogant, clever, and normally I’d be completely into it. But I can’t focus, because I’m aware of everything, the quiet weight of his arm behind me, the way his knee is just a few inches from mine, the way that small distance feels like it matters more than it should.
My breathing turns careful, measured, like I have to pay attention to it to keep it steady, to keep myself from shifting even a fraction closer.
So I stay still.
My phone buzzes, the sound cutting through the room and pulling me out of it.
I glance down at the coffee table.
Mom.
My stomach drops, a slow, heavy feeling spreading through my chest and settling there, familiar in a way I wish it wasn’t.
I push the blanket aside and stand, needing the space, needing a second to breathe before I answer. Without looking at Dex, I walk into the kitchen, my fingers tightening around the phone as I bring it to my ear.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Mama?”
“You left me without money or food, you little bitch!”
I close my eyes briefly. I know that tone. She’s under the influence, and it’s not good.
“I left you some money in the bathroom cabinet, Mama. You can use that.”
“I already used that, Lexy! What the hell was I supposed to do with thirty bucks?”
“Are you safe?”
“I’m stuck at home and I can’t get to the store for drinks! All there is is bread, cereal and water!”
“I’ll come visit you as soon as this storm is over, Mama, and I’ll take you shopping, okay?”
She starts calling me names, worse ones this time, not even asking if I’m safe, where I am, or why I left.
I hang up.
For a second, I just stand there in the kitchen, staring at nothing, the silence pressing in where her voice just was.
Then I take a breath and walk back to the couch, pulling the blanket over my lap again like I can slip back into the moment I left before the call.
My phone rings.
Again.
The sound is sharper this time, more insistent.
I freeze, my hand hovering just above it.
I know exactly what’s waiting on the other end.
I stare at the screen for a second too long, my thumb hovering like I might pick it up, like I might answer, like I might let her pull me back into something I’ve been trying to stay out of.
Then I flip it over.
