Page 77 of Sterling Fight

“All the more reason not to attend.” The instant I say the words, I sense my error.

Genie turns her head back toward me. Her eyes are soft, sad even. “She’s still my mom.”

And Janet Hurley treats her daughter like shit, but I don’t comment. Biting my tongue is hard, though. I know all too well about never speaking up. Never fighting back. Genie has a backbone in every other aspect, but her mother makes her believe that she’s weak.

The similarities to how my father made me feel are all too familiar and the last thing I want for my brave, strong girl. Genie comes across like she knows her own worth, but has this one sliver of hesitation, and I don’t want her to ever doubt herself. She’s beautiful, capable, powerful.

“Okay,” I whisper, acquiescing, understanding again that struggle to appease someone you despise.

“Would you . . .” Genie licks her lips and glances down at the hem of the tee. “Would you come with me?”

My eyes widen as surprise and elation wrap around me. “You want me to be there for you?” Because that’s what she’s essentially asking and I’m all for supporting her. “Heck yes.”

She giggles. “You mean, check yes.”

“That too, firefly.” I set the coffee mug on the countertop and step around the island to pull her to me.

Last night feels like lightyears away, and yet I know I was a bit aggressive with her. Eager to please her.

“You okay today?”

She tips back her head and looks up at me. “Yeah. Think you can wear these glasses later today and we can play dirty accountant and naughty secretary. I could play with your calculator.”

I laugh a little harder, squeezing her tighter. “Fuck. You into role playing?”

“I could be with those glasses on you.”

I shake my head before resting my forehead against hers.

“But seriously, thank you in advance for doing this today.”

“Whatever you wish, Genie.” I kiss the tip of her nose but then she leans up to kiss me, and with that kind of morning greeting, I’ll never deny her anything.

Even brunch with her wicked mother.

Or wearing my glasses while she pretends to be my naughty secretary.

When we arrive at Evergreen Terrace, a sickening sensation in my belly rears, and it isn’t the ache in my lower left abdomen screaming in warning.

Being here has bad idea written all over it, but I’m present for Genie.

The first hit comes when the hostess recognizes me when Genie and I enter the lobby. “Mr. Sylver, great to see you again.”

At the recognition of my name, Genie bristles beside me, perhaps knowing who I’ve been here with before, and I run my hand up her spine, cupping the back of her neck.

“The Remingtons are already seated. May I lead you to their table?” The young girl’s smile is friendly, her intention well-meaning.

“Actually.” Genie clears her throat. “We’re here for brunch with Janet Hurley. My mother.”

“Oh.” The hostess glances between us. “Perfect. She’s seated with the Remingtons.”

“What?” Genie snaps, her mouth falling open.

What the fuck?

“Brunch was supposed to be a party of three,” Genie explains to the high school-aged girl. “My mother, Lester, and me.”

A fourth chair would have been easily added for me.