“Nope.” I pop thepwith sarcastic pep. “They just made it my problem.”
Wes reaches out and gently pries the phone out of my hands. “They can wait. Go shower, eat some breakfast, and then call your brothers and tell them to deal with it.”
I shake my head and hold my hand out for my phone. “It’s not worth the fight. They’re just going to make excuses.”
“They make excuses because they know they can,” Wes says, not unkindly.
I start to protest, to insist that’s not true, but plainly it is. Every year it’s gotten to me more and more that my brothers can’t ever seem to hold up their end after agreeing to deal with Mom while I’m gone. I’ve wondered so many times what would happen if I just blocked their numbers for the whole six weeks. I’ve never been able to bring myself to do it—and deep down I know why.
“Mom was eighteen when she had me. Sometimes I’m notsure who raised who.” I force a brittle smile and wrap my arms around myself before going on. “When my brothers came along, things were good for a few years, but their dad wasn’t very interested in a stepdaughter. He had even less patience for my mom’s crap and took off when I was eight.”
Wes lays his hand on my thigh, palm up. I stare at it for a long moment, the sensation on my skin weirdly disconnected from the words coming out of my mouth. It takes more effort than it should to take his hand.
“And then the only one left to take care of everyone was you,” he says quietly, his fingers tight on mine.
“Yeah. There were so many times…” I shake my head and blow out a breath, as if that could rid me of the memories. “I didn’t want them to know how often she didn’t show up for them. I knew what it was like to be forgotten, so I made sure they weren’t. They were my responsibility. I guess some part of me hasn’t fully let go of that.”
“But theyweren’tyour responsibility. They were your mom’s, andyouwere her responsibility too.” Wes glances down at my phone in his other hand with a frown. “I get why you wanted to protect them as kids. You shouldn’t have had to—but I get it. They’re adults now, Sloane. They’re never going to change if you keep taking care of everything.”
Wes takes a deep breath and then adds, “I love my mom, but I spent a long time fighting her battles with my dad just for her to pretend like whatever god-awful shit he said to her never happened. Like he doesn’t flaunt his affairs right in front of her. It’s gotten to a point where I can’t do it anymore. He’s been trying to use her as a weapon against me almost my entire life. The only way it ends now is ifshedecides she’s had enough. Iknow it’s not easy, but at some point, we have to stop trying to fix it all.”
“I know.” I clear my throat, hoping to also clear the itchy feeling brought on by Wes seeing far more of the pain my family has caused me than I’d like. It doesn’t work. “Everything you’re saying makes a lot of sense, but I just…how?”
He gives me a rueful smile and presses a kiss to my temple. “Time,” he says quietly. “Time and a decent therapist.”
My discomfort eases slightly. I’m still embarrassed by my family situation, but it helps to know Wes has been there. And maybe it gives me a little courage too.
I hold out my hand. “I’m going to need my phone back.”
Wes perches on the edge of the mattress next to me while I dial Eric. As soon as he answers, I bark, “Hold on,” and then add Sam to the call.
“What the fuck, Sloane?” he grumbles. “I was asleep. Like a normal person at seven in the morning.”
“Too bad.” I glance at Wes and then throw myself into the deep end. “I need you to take care of this lawn thing with Mom. Her yard is barely bigger than a postage stamp. One of you must have an hour in your day to go over there and handle it.”
“The garage is busy!”
“I have plans with Cassie!”
Their protests fall on top of each other, just like I knew they would. “And I’m five hundred miles away. You can’t possibly tell me there hasn’t been any time at all in the last three weeks where either of you could mow the lawn.”
“You could have just done it when you were here,” Eric says sullenly. “Maybe I’d have had time if I wasn’t working on yourboyfriend’s fuckup. Do you have any idea how long it took me to pick out all that glass?”
“Wait, Sloane has a boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Eric confirms. “You remember that guy she got drunk and bitched about?”
“Oh, I looked him up. Good job, Sloane.”
“First, it’s been like three weeks since I was home. Even if Ihadmowed the grass, it would need to be done again by now.” I press my palm to my forehead, struggling not to let my frustration show. “Second, I don’t have time for this crap. Someone needs to mow the damn lawn and keep Mom from getting into it with Sharon Campbell again. Which one of you is going over there and when?”
“I don’t have time.”
“I told you, I’m busy.”
“And I’m in fucking Nebraska!” I all but shout, my hand so tight around the phone it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. I squeeze my eyes shut, take a long breath, and reach deep for some semblance of calm.
The back of my eyelids have no answer, but when I open my eyes, Wes says in a voice too low to be overheard, “You’ve been making yourself crazy trying to deal with this.Tellthem that.”
