"You should be asleep." I narrow my eyes at him.
He scrunches his nose.
"Grandma snores, and her apartment stinks," he says.
I stifle a laugh. Yup, definitely gets it from me.
"I'm counting tips, and then I'll pick you up, okay?"
"Did you have a good night?"
"Sure did, kid. We're one step closer to a new car," I tell him.
He yawns, stretching his arm over his head, and the sleeve of his pajama shirt rides up. I guess a trip to the thrift store is in order.
"See you soon," I say, and we hang up.
Addie nudges me with her elbow. "You didn't fuck that up."
Nope. That eight-year-old saved me. He's my reason for breathing.
"Oh, Mom wanted me to ask you if you're coming for dinner tomorrow," she says.
I nod. Sunday dinner with Addie's family is my favorite part of the week. Cooper's too. Her parents are wonderful with him. So much so they've started watching him most nights while I'm at work. Except for tonight, because my mom begged to take him. I swear to all that's fucking holy, if I even smell a whiff of smoke in his hair or see a bottle of anything on her counter, I'll lose my shit.
I look over at my best friend, waiting for her to continue her emotional unloading, but instead, she offers me a small smile, and I know the conversation is finished. She'll talk when she's ready.
We finish separating bills and count them up. Over a thousand dollars. Not bad for a Saturday. I take my half, and Addie slides the extra dollar my way, like always. She wipes down the bar, and I clean up the broken bottle I threw on the floor. We yell goodbye to Gus, our boss, through the propped office door and lock the entrance as we leave.
At our cars, I let Addie hug me. I'm not one for physical affection, never have been, unless it's with Coop. Breaking the cycle and all that. She hugs me longer than usual, but I don't let go, not until she does. Something about her brother being home is fucking her up, and I decide I don't like him. Not when my normally charismatic friend isn't acting herself.
"See you tomorrow," I say.
She nods and climbs into her shiny SUV. The one her parents bought her a few months ago after she totaled her car. A little green monster slithers up my spine, and I force it back down as I climb into my second-hand sedan and pray it turns over.
Cooper is asleep on my mom's couch when I get there, his old baby blanket pulled up to his chin, and his phone clutched to his chest. He looks so peaceful, and I hate having to wake himup. If he were at Addie's house, we'd both sleep there tonight. Or he would, and I'd pick him up in the morning. Instead, my mom snores from her recliner, an unlit cigarette hanging from her fingertips. At least it looks like she was waiting until he left.
I nudge her with my foot, and she startles awake. I point to Coop and then mime leaving, and she nods. UNO cards litter the floor, and I step over them, removing the phone from his hands and sliding it into my pocket.
"He's too young for that thing," my mom croaks.
I level her with a glare, but don't bother responding. She wouldn't understand. My son will always be able to call me for help. He'll never wonder if I forgot him or be put in a situation he can't get out of. Ever.
I scoop him up and wonder how much longer I'll be able to lift him, let alone carry him down a flight of stairs. He shifts in my hold, wrapping his arms around my neck.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hey, kid."
Mom holds the door open for me, and I maneuver down the old wooden stairs with Coop in my arms. By the time I make it back to my car from her second-floor apartment, my body aches, and I struggle to catch my breath. I get Coop into his seat, tuck his blanket under his arm, and pray as I sink into the driver's seat.
Please start.
Chapter three
Mateo
Ichoke down six ibuprofen capsules and wish for the five hundredth time since surgery that I'd opted for real painkillers. That's one thing nobody tells you about getting older. Everything hurts, and it takes twice as long to heal. I'm tired, swollen, and stuffed. If I don't get out of this fucking house, Mom's going to personally see to it I gain fifty pounds. I'm already a solid dude. I can't afford to gain weight. My ass is already leaving an imprint in this damn recliner, and it's only been two days.
