Part 17 (2/2)
”No, not yet. But I bet the f.u.c.ker is plotting,” I inform.
Smiling into the phone, he replies, ”To blow s.h.i.+t up, I bet.”
”Probably,” I answer on a shrug, even though he can't see it.
”How's the girl?”
”Casey's as good as she can be.”
Tommy exhales and I hear it through the line. ”That's good news.”
”How's the dweeb?” I ask in reference to his daughter's date.
He laughs. ”f.u.c.ker had her a.s.s home thirty minutes early for both dates. Den said my long hair scares him.”
”Your hair?” I ask. ”Not the gun you've been s.h.i.+ning to show off for him?”
”Nope,” he snaps. ”Told you, he's a dweeb.” He laughs. ”Thinkin' maybe Em's right. It's the bad boys I gotta worry about.”
”Right.”
”Thanks for callin'. Let me know if you need anything. I'm taking Denver out shooting this afternoon.”
Smiling again, I picture Tommy's rambunctious teenager wielding a weapon. He must know what's going through my mind when he says, ”Yeah, I want every little f.u.c.ker to know she's my kid, and I plan to make her a good shot.”
”Take care, Tommy.”
”You stay breathin', Max. If Den finds a bad boy not so unlike you and the others, I'll need backup,” he tells me.
This is his way of using pa.s.sive words to tell me he's concerned. I accept it without chastising him. ”Got it.”
”Out,” he replies, and the line goes dead.
Just as I'm about to walk back into the house, I hear the front door being opened. When I glance up, I find Emma walking through it with bags in her hands and my mother in tow. Mom's hands are full of as many bags as Emma's, but Mom's face is tight.
While she's setting her things on the kitchen counter and I walk into the house I barely have time to catch Em as she comes darting across the room and into my quickly opened arms. The force of her arrival pushes us both back a step until my back hits the sliding gla.s.s door leading to the balcony.
I'm forced to smile wide at her response to seeing me again. Through all the chaos, she's the only peace I'm ever given.
”I'm glad you're here,” she tells me as her legs wrap around my waist and she uses her arms to hold me tightly to her. ”I've missed you,” she says into my neck.
Kissing her temple, I lock eyes with my mother who's standing speechless and fully enc.u.mbered at the door.
”I've missed you, too, sweetheart,” I whisper softly.
Putting her on her feet, my hand grabs hers as I kiss the crown of her head. ”You have a good day?”
Releasing me completely and stepping back, she rests her hands on my chest. ”I did. Come sit and I'll show you what we got.”
”Honey?” Mom calls quietly. She's had a look at my face. Em did, as well, but I'm not sure she even noticed. She was there when it happened, so it's understandable she wasn't surprised to find it's still present.
”Yeah, Mom?”
”Who did that to you?” She points to her eye then positions her finger near her face where I'm bruised. ”And don't tell me you fell. You've been in enough fights I already know what's what.”
I'm surprised, with this being a small town, that Mom hadn't yet heard what happened. Or why Em hadn't mentioned it to her.
I look at Em now and her hands move to the front of her body, as though telling me she's out of this.
”It's nothing,” I tell my mother, grabbing Em's hand again and walking toward her near the door. ”I'm fine.”
”Fine,” she repeats, seeing straight through my lie as only my mother truly could. ”Well, I hope you got your one-two in and the person who did it'll think twice about picking on my son again.”
”He won't do it again,” Em puts in. ”And the other guy was the bully, not Max.”
My mom smiles and a look of pride follows soon after. Even at my age, she can make me feel worthy while showing her appreciation.
”We ran into Greg this afternoon,” Mom mentions and after hearing her words, my head lifts in attention. Em's expression is nervous.
”And?” I prod.
”He didn't seem too surprised or upset that I was shopping with your mother,” Em explains.
”He was very cordial,” Mom puts in behind Emma. ”He asked how she had been doing and told her he wishes her well. I was impressed.”
Mom would be impressed. She doesn't know the full story behind Emma's marriage to that son of a b.i.t.c.h.
My eyes focus on Emma, but her face gives me nothing but rea.s.surance. ”He was good, Max. I think he's accepted things and he's starting to move on.”
”Thank f.u.c.k for that,” I comment quietly.
”Here,” Em says, changing the sore subject and holding a bag up to my chest. ”Look in it.”
”And don't put a damper on our fun, either.” Mom winks. ”I'll blacken your other eye if you do.”
When I open the bag, I pull out a pair of bright red pajamas. The top is covered in small yellow flowers and the bottoms are the same matching pattern.
”Em, I love you in a lot of things, but this...” I say, lifting the long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt by its collar, ”isn't what I'll love you in the most.”
s.n.a.t.c.hing them out of my hand, Em huffs before grabbing the bag from my hands and throwing the s.h.i.+rt back in it. ”It's not for me. It's for Casey.”
I bite my tongue before I'm able to 'put a damper' on anything. I don't like that she's gone out and bought things for Casey. I'd rather she wait until we know when or how we're going to be able to bring them together.
Catching my apprehension, Em asks, ”What? What's wrong?”
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