“You can’t just leave him on his own, Jonah,” she called after me as I started toward the front door.
“Watch me.” It wasn’t like the old man deserved kindness from either of us. He had refused to protect us from her. Why should we protect him now?
“I’m not staying, you know,” she went on. “If you don’t take care of him, the state will take him into custody, and who knows what will happen to him then.”
God, she was a monster, but I wasn’t going to fall for it. If I refused to help, she’d give up her little plan to leave the country and deal with him herself.
And someday, I was going to write a tell-all about the internet’s Disability Mom Darling and what she did to her sons and her husband, all for the sake of cash. I needed to make sure I did it while she was alive too.
I ignored her shouting after me as I made my way out the door, and I didn’t stop moving until I heard traffic. The bus bench wasn’t too far from the entrance to her neighborhood, and as my cane guided me along, keeping me from tumbling into the street, I heard the shuddering hiss of the city bus approaching.
I reached into my pocket for my card, then tapped my cane against the pole as I waited for it to pull up and stop. I couldn’tget home on it. It stopped at the edge of town, but I could at least get over to Ford and Killian’s place and play with their new kitten until I was emotionally stable enough to order a car.
Right now, I was shaking and turned around and so angry I felt like I could spit fire. How could she do this?
Of course, that was a ridiculous question. I knew exactly how she could do this. This was entirely her MO.
But Christ, her husband. The man who had stood by her and defended every one of her worst, most questionable decisions?
I tapped my card, then let the bus driver guide me to an empty seat before leaning back and doing my best to pay attention to the stops. Most of the drivers were kind, but a lot of them got irritated when I asked them to keep an eye out for where I needed to get off.
Luckily, I’d been doing this route for a while, so I relaxed and counted off in my head every time we rolled to a halt.
Six stops away, and I was starting to breathe a little easier.
Four stops away, and I wasn’t shaking anymore.
When the bus reached the bench right near the entrance to Ford’s apartment, I made my way to the signpost and waited for it to head off before following the path to Ford and Killian’s door. God help me if they ever moved. I didn’t want to learn my way to Boden’s house, and I stayed far away from Tucker and Amadeo since they were always—always—screwing.
Not that Killian and Ford could keep their hands off each other, but they usually had the decency to keep it off the couch, so I didn’t have to wonder if I was sitting on a come stain.
I held my breath, knocked, then tried for a smile when the door opened. “Alms for the poor?”
“Shut the fuck up, dude.” Ford gripped my arm and gently tugged me over the threshold. He was lower to the ground, meaning he was using his wheelchair, which was a rare occurrence for him. “Why are you here?”
“Mom drama. I need a drink.”
“Booze-free this month,” he said as he let me go at the entrance to the living room. “Best I can do is sparkling water and a weed gummy your brother left three weeks ago.”
I wasn’t about to ask what Micah was doing with weed gummies. “I’ll take the water and cat cuddles if Nugs is available.”
“On the couch,” Ford said, his voice fading as he headed toward the kitchen.
I walked over and felt for her, then sat and kicked my foot up on the table. I could feel a headache coming on—a slow burn that was going to eventually turn into a migraine.
“Water,” Ford said to my right. He touched the back of my hand with the glass. “And an ear if you need someone to listen to the drama.”
I took the glass, gulped half, then grimaced. It actually was sparkling. I thought he was joking, the fucker. Whatever. I drank another mouthful. “Shitty parents are shitty.”
“Tell me about it.”
I let out another sigh…and then I did.
