“Y’all made out like a couple of horny boys instead?”
“Pretty much.”
“What sent you over there in the first place?”
I cringe as I remember the fight with Mom earlier today and then again this evening. “Mom.”
“Aimee?” Her brows furl together. “I expected anyone but her.”
I tell her the story of wanting Mom to come to my meet but her claiming to have to work. Her brows lift when I get to the part about the guy at the bakery saying she hasn’t been there for a while. Finally, I tell her about the fight we had.
“I’m sorry,” she says, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, but it’s unfair to treat you that way when all you’ve wanted was her happiness.”
Hearing my own thoughts validated has a calmness settling in my bones. Once I relax, we chat about her job, the fact that Leon was the “friend” to visit her, and how much of a bitch her sister is being lately. Eventually, she has to get home so her parents won’t worry. I’m thankful for her friendship.
“See you Monday, friend,” I say with a wave as she trots off toward her vehicle.
Once I lock up the house, I walk back into Mom’s room. Her food sits untouched and she’s now in her pajamas watching television.
“You didn’t eat?” I grit out, motioning to her food.
“I’m not hungry.”
Seriously? She probably hasn’t even eaten today. This is getting out of hand. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up sick. Mom needs help—help I clearly can’t provide. Maybe her brother can.
“Do you want me to call Uncle Adam?”
She scoffs. “No.”
“I just think someone else needs to talk to you because I can’t seem to get through to you.”
“Canyon—”
“You’re acting like you don’t care about life anymore!” I bark out. “I’m so fucking tired of it!”
Mom sits up and scowls. “Get out.”
“Fine, we can talk about this tomorrow,” I spit out as I stalk toward the door.
“No. Out. I want you out of my house.”
I freeze, jerking my head toward her. “W-What?”
“You want to act like your father, then go live with him. I can’t deal with this. Go.”
“You can’t be serious—”
“I said go!”
With my heart shattering inside my chest and tears pooling in my eyes, I escape her depressing room and hurtful words.
What the hell just happened?
Alister
He didn’t send me those texts.
What the fuck? What the fuck? What the actual fuck?
Quickly, I change the contact from Brother Lover to Creep. I’m completely skeeved out by this conversation I’ve been having with a stranger while thinking it was Canyon.
I should tell Dad and Ryan.
My stomach twists violently, making me nauseous. It’s a wrong number, obviously. Whoever has been texting with me doesn’t mean to. That’s it.
They know when your birthday is, dumbass.
No, they don’t. It’s a coincidence. The text about my birthday said two weeks, not the actual date.
One thing I know for sure is Canyon wasn’t the sender. After calling him out on it on Instagram, he genuinely seemed confused. I feel dirty and used talking to a random person while thinking it was him.
I can’t seem to sit still despite the late hour. I’ve already cleaned the mirror, shower door, and window, dusted my room, vacuumed, changed the sheets, and reorganized my closet. There’s nothing left for me to fix.
I’m still reeling, pacing my room, when Dad rushes in, a frantic, concerned look on his face. For a minute, I wonder if he’s seen the texts and is worried too.
“Hey, kiddo, you think you could make sure the guest room across the hall is ready? I know you have some extra art stuff stored in the closet, but we need the space.” He scrubs a palm over his face, weariness shining in his eyes. “Canyon needs it.”
Canyon?
“What? Why? He’s coming to stay with us?”
A slideshow of filthy images flit through my mind all at once, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking because getting a boner in front of my dad would be awkward as fuck.
“Aimee kicked him out. Ryan and I are going to head over there to help grab some of his stuff.”
My blood runs cold, the heat leeching from my body almost instantly. Did he tell her about us? No. He wouldn’t. They must have had another fight about the meet and her lying about why she didn’t go to it.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll get it ready.”
Dad leaves and I hurry into the guest room across the hall. The situation is shit, but I can’t deny the thrill that shoots down my spine at having him nearby. While the house is quiet, I set to emptying out the closet and moving the art supplies into my studio. I’ll organize it better when I’m not in a rush. I take my obsessive need to clean into what’ll now be Canyon’s room, making sure every surface shines and is dust free. After I’ve changed the bedding and scrubbed the toilet, I admire the space that he’ll soon clutter up. The thought, surprisingly, doesn’t upset me.
Right now, I need him here with me. I want to talk to him about the texts to see what he thinks about them. Plus, I think he needs me too. His fight earlier with his mom is the catalyst of what brought us together sexually. Emotions were running high. I can only imagine what getting kicked out of his house will do to him.
I’m sitting on his bed, waiting, when Ryan walks in carrying an armful of clothes on a hanger. His jaw is clenched and the furious glint in his eyes is one I’ve never seen before. It reminds me of Canyon so much it’s chilling.
“Everything go okay?” I croak out.
He hangs the clothes up in the closet and comes out wearing a look of a disgust. For a second, I feel exposed—as though he knows that I blew his son earlier.
“I know I fucked things up with Aimee because I have loved your dad for as long as I can remember, but it’s unimaginable that she’d take it out on Canyon.” He blows out a sharp breath. “He’s already so fragile.”
Fragile and Canyon aren’t two words I’d put in the same sentence, but Ryan certainly believes it based on the tense, worried expression on his face.
“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” I vow, meeting his sad stare. “I promise.”
And I will.
It’s messed up what me and Canyon have been doing, but I care about him more than a casual hookup. I don’t want him to hurt. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t.
“You’re a good kid,” Ryan says, studying me with pride. “I’m proud to soon have you as a son, too.”
Son.
Yikes.
It’s a good reminder that I need to tread carefully. The last thing I need to do is screw stuff up with Ryan. Dad loves him and if I piss off his soon-to-be husband, I’ll be more disposable than ever.
Ryan leaves the bedroom and I go to the closet to neaten up the hangers that he haphazardly threw on the rack. It’s clear to see where Canyon got his messiness from. After living with Ryan for a few short months, Dad’s house cleaner, Carole, has had to come a lot more often. Poor Carole’s really going to have her work cut out for her now.