Page 39 of Sterling Fight

“I didn’t know you were acquainted with Judd Sylver.” She pauses a beat. “Wasn’t he the one who dumped you on prom night?”

“I wouldn’t say dumped⁠—”

“It’s a good thing he left town. You don’t need the likes of a man like him.”

“Like him?” Wasn’t he good enough to be with Heather? I don’t bother asking. It’s a double-edged sword with my mother. She always jeers both sides of a chess board, wanting neither side to win. She’s simply never happy.

“You know, Virginia, if I’ve taught you anything it’s that men don’t appreciate easy women. They find them easy. To love and then leave.”

“What the fuck?” The startling snarl comes from behind me, and I spin on the stool to find a beast of a man behind me.

Judd is a vision, wearing a striped pool towel around his waist, chest exposed and notable for the number of ripples along his abdomen. A patch of hair decorates his pecs along with the glistening silver chain around his neck with a thick, masculine ring dangling from it. His hair is slicked back, dark as night, but his eyes are flames of blue. With his hands on his hips, his broad shoulders look even broader, and the dark expression on his face is frightening.

He points at my phone lying flat on the countertop in speaker mode, but before he can say more, my mother continues.

“Being a slut will not result in a solid relationship.”

Judd’s entire body tightens. His shoulders appear to expand in front of me. His chest heaves as he draws in a long breath. His nostrils flare. Smoke might actually burst from his ears next.

With a steady hand, he reaches around me and presses his thick fingertip to the bright red End Call button.

“Judd,” I whisper. Hanging up on my mother will fire her up more.

“What the fuck was that?” He glaringly points at the suddenly black screen.

“It’s just my mother.” Not exactly complimentary of her and certainly embarrassing to me to have someone witness her opinion. That because I haven’t married, I must be spreading my thighs for every Tom and Harry’s dick, and giving away what Mother believes men should pay for.

The irony in her statement is she doesn’t know anything about a solid relationship. She’s on marriage number four!

And there isn’t a price tag on love.

“Fuck that,” Judd states so sharply I flinch in my seat.

“She doesn’t mean anything by it,” I defend, but I don’t know why I’m standing up for her. She means exactly what she’s saying, and the hurt runs deep. I’ve heard comments like the one she just made all my life.

“She shouldn’t speak to you like that,” he emphasizes, his irritation continuing.

“It’s just who she is.”

“It’s unacceptable.” Judd crosses his thick arms. The colorful ink on his arms is a sharp contrast to his chest flesh, which looks chilled and pink from his swim in the lake.

My eyes suddenly burn with tears, and I don’t know if the sting is the dagger of my mother’s words, Judd hearing her say such a thing to me, or Judd himself. He’s clearly upset, bordering murderous, and it’s in my defense. How my mom spoke to me. What she implied.

I don’t know why she’s like she is toward me, but a niggling sensation in my gut always reminds me, even if my mother hasn’t, it’s my fault my dad is no longer with us. Over the years, I’ve told myself my mother is simply bitter and angry about something she couldn’t control, because my mother needs to control the narrative.

My phone rings, vibrating against the countertop and startling me. Judd and I both glance at the screen. MOTHER lights up the caller ID. Janet Hurley and technology do not go hand and hand, so I know she assumes we were disconnected by a fluke. If I were to answer, disconnection is the excuse I’d use for the dropped call.

However, Judd reaches around me again and clicks Dismiss Call on the screen. Then he powers off my phone.

“Do you have a bathing suit?”

“What?” I sputter, glancing back at him, uncertain how swimwear is relevant right now.

“Put your suit on. We’re going swimming.”

“I am not swimming.” I don’t feel like doing much of anything and that’s what I hate most about phone calls with my mother. She can squelch my energy and dull my creativity.

You can’t control everything that happens to you, but you can control how you react to it. My reaction is to take a little time to quell my immediate response to her and erase her temporary damage. The older I get the easier I bounce back. Still, I need processing time.