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Does he pay for her… substances?
“So, you give your winnings from every fight to your mom?”
“Yeah, I keep a third of it, but she needs it more than I do.”
I hate how angry that makes me. I tell myself I’m in no place to judge, but I can’t quiet the nagging voice in my head. Let me get this straight—a grown-ass woman is living on her eighteen-year-old’s son back? And she squanders the money he brings home on drugs?
Once again, he reads me like an open book.
“I know how this sounds, but she just needs a push to get her life back on track. She’s trying.”
“So, she has a job?” I question.
“Not yet, but she’s looking. She promised me she would.”
Everything about this screams toxic to me, but I keep my mouth shut, strictly refusing to form an opinion on his mother until I give her a chance.
“Do the guys know about this?”
His features darken at the mention of his friends. “Only Kendrick does. I’m not close enough with Alex to tell him.”
I often forget how close these two are.
“We’re almost there.” He changes the topic, leading my left hand to his mouth to lay a kiss on my knuckles as he drives.
We pull into an isolated trailer park five minutes later, driving down a bumpy, narrow road. I watch as mobile homes flow past the car windows, some in better shape than others, the majority run-down and decrepit. I know better than to think all trailer parks are poorly maintained, but this one fits square into the stereotype.
Will’s car comes to a stop in front of a worn-out, white trailer addressed 50. A metallic gray car sits in the driveway, making Will pause. He frowns, killing the engine and narrowing his eyes to catch a glimpse of the license plate.
“What the…” I hear him say.
That’s when a man stumbles out of the trailer, a beer in his left hand. He inspects his surroundings like a criminal.
“Stay in the car,” Will spits, the frost in his voice making it clear he’s not asking and rushes out of the vehicle without so much as a warning. I roll the window down just in time to hear him bark, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The drunk stranger, who’s swaying down the trailer’s steps, heaves a throaty laugh at the sight of Will charging toward him.
“Long time, kid.”
“Answer the fucking question, Steve.”
“Just paying your mom a visit.”
“Where is she?” Will blurts, fear lacing his tone.
“Inside. I wouldn’t bother her. She’s… resting.”
Then the man zips up his pants.
My blood freezes over.
The man laughs again, tipping his beer back for a sip. Except the bottle never meets his lips. Will snatches the beer out of his hands, launching it against the trailer at full strength. I shriek as the glass shatters into a million pieces. I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the car handle, ready to go over there.
“One beating wasn’t enough, huh? You need more?” Will grips the chubby man’s collar and punches him to the ground. That’s my cue. I’m at Will’s side in seconds, holding him back before he dives in for round two.
“Will, stop!”
“What the hell? I told you to stay in the car!” Will shouts, worry crossing his features when he sees me. The man jumps at Will’s inattention, seizing the opportunity to crawl into his car and bolt. The vehicle roars down the street before we know it.
