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Mom laughed, although she wasn’t amused. “Man candy? At least he’s legal.”
I toed off my boots and winced when they thudded on the rubber mat. The bickering stopped and they both came into the living room.
“Where have you been?” my mother asked. She wore pants and a sweater, but she had yet to do her makeup or put on jewelry.
My father was dressed for work—minus his shoes which were on the mat by my boots—and held a mug of coffee. The dark scent of it was the only comforting thing in the house. There was no Christmas tree. No lit fireplace. No warmth whatsoever. Not even from my parents.
God, I couldn’t remember the last time they hugged me. Mrs. Wray hugged me at least five times during the party and I’d just met her. Jackson’s dads had hugged me, too. They smiled, were warm and welcoming. Didn’t judge. They just liked me because Jackson did.
They respected their son, loved him unconditionally. Dash, too.
And yet my parents were like strangers to me. Strangers who knew my past. My barely loved past.
“I told you, I had a date.”
“All night?” my father asked. His tone was accusing and it made me bristle.
“I’m not sixteen, Dad.” I took off my other boot with a thump.
He sniffed. “Still, you have a reputation to uphold.”
Okay, now I was pissed. I was tired. I was no longer relaxed from a wild night of fucking. I hadn’t had my coffee and my father was accusing me of ruining my reputation? I bit my lip before I said something I might regret.
“You should talk,” Mom snapped at Dad.
“Jesus, Marla,” he countered. “Everyone’s going to be talking about Avery’s tawdry behavior at Jackie’s wedding.”
I hung up my coat on the hook, rolled my eyes. Tawdry behavior?
“Isn’t your secretary on the invite list?” she snapped, and I realized his secretary was his latest girl-on-the-side.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, making them look at me again. I made it three feet before my mother held up a hand.
“I hung up your dress for the wedding in your closet. Make sure it fits right as you were in Mexico or Mozambique and missed the fitting. We want the family photos to look good.”
“Family? You want the family photos to look good,” I repeated, my tone incredulous. “Why? So you can continue to fake that we’re still an actual family? You don’t care about me or my job, what I do. What makes me happy.”
My mother’s eyebrows were up beneath her dark bangs. “How can we? You’re never here.”
“All you have to do is ask, Mom. I have email, video calling, a phone. Being in the same town shouldn’t make a difference.”
I thought of Dash and Jackson. They wanted me however and wherever they could get me. No strings.
They understood me, what made me tick after a few days in a way my parents still didn’t.
“You’re here now,” she countered. While she’d pursed her lips, she offered no outward sign of anger. She’d had tons of practice with Dad. “You’re father’s right. You shouldn’t be walking in the front door in the same clothes you left in.”
I tossed my hands up in the air. “You’ve been pushing me to find a nice guy to date here in Bridgewater. I’ve found two. Now you’re telling me I’m overdoing it? Can you ever just be happy?”
“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Dad snapped.
“Why not? You do.”
That was it. I was done. I went into my room, slammed the door. Talking to them was like beating my head against the wall. This was the first time I’d ever really spoken back. While I wanted to say it felt good, it actually felt pretty awful because it made no difference. They weren’t going to change. When they came home from work, they’d be right back at each other. And me.
* * *
I showered, then slept most of the day, but made sure I was out of the house before my parents returned. It was happy hour and I was in a booth at the Barking Dog, Jackson and Dash having met me right from the clinic. God, I hadn’t been to this bar in ages. It still looked exactly the same. Like everything else in Bridgewater, the local pub seemed to be stuck in time, for better or worse.
