The back door opens and closes. Kayley appears by my side, a drink in her hand. “Need help with those weaners tomorrow?”
“Yeah, you got the time off still?”
“Sure do. We’re bringing them in and drafting off the bigger ones for the sale next week, right?”
“Yeah, anything that weighs out heavy enough.”
“I think Dane is wanting some this round.” Kayley sips her beer.
God knows how she drinks the stuff.
“How did the fences go?” Mom asks.
“Done. Got round the back fields, too.”
“Oh, great.” Mom wonders over to the swing seat, settling on it before closing her eyes.
Kayley’s gaze tracks her movements. “She’s been tired this week.”
My brows drop in a frown. “Keep an eye on her for me over the weekend, will you?”
“Yeah, I’ll be around anyway.”
“Good. Also, I’ll transfer that money back to you when I’m paid.”
“Nah, you won’t. I don’t need it, Hads.”
“Kayl—”
Her fine finger presses over my lips. “Hadley Matthew Jones, you have given this family more than anyone ever has. Keep the money. I want you to have it. Besides, you could use some new threads, big brother.”
I look down at my ripped work jeans and the T-shirt I’m wearing with a huge tear across one shoulder.
“Don’t make me take you clothes shopping, Hads.” She kisses my cheek before slipping back inside.
“She’s right, you know,” Mom pipes up, eyes still closed. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“Fair. But I’ve been busy.”
Mom’s eyes open. “No, you’ve been selfless too long. We’re not blind or stupid. Stop giving everything you have for once. New clothes are a start. Then fix your house up. Go out and have a life. I want you to be happy.” Her face twists as the words leave her mouth. Like the way our family has been for the past decade is her biggest regret.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” I drop onto the chair by her side. She leans into me, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Mom. You got dealt a crappy hand.”
“I’m your mother. I’m supposed to take care of you, and instead you and Kayley became the parents your father and I couldn’t be.”
The long nights, Mom’s depression and mental health episodes rush me like a dead-end road does a runaway car. The fact she puts herself in the same category as that low-life piece of shit that caused her so much pain has a stone growing in my throat before it lodges tight.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be a normal mother for you, Hadley.”
The stone explodes, my jaw feathering.
I huff a strained sound and tug her closer. “Normal is overrated.” I dot a kiss to the crown of her head.
I swear to god, life can go fuck itself.
