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“I don’t know. She put the money in a trust for us. When I flipped my first home, I needed a down payment. My foster dad gave me the money and said it was a gift. I didn’t have to pay it back. And you, your college sponsorship—”
“Mom?”
“Yeah, she divided it up. We each get ten grand.”
“I didn’t use the sponsorship.”
“Yeah, and it’s still in the trust. Lix’s too. I talked to Lix last night. We think we should use the rest of the money to help Mom when she gets out to get a place and shit.”
“Yeah, I’m on board with that.”
“Good.” He stares at me. “Listen, if you can’t ask Mom about this shit, I’ll go instead of you today.”
“No.” I stand. “I’ll talk to her.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I got it.” I walk out of the office, thoughts of Harper’s beautiful naked backside gone from my mind.
???
I drop Harper off at the rehabilitation center and head for the prison. It’s like I told Harper, Mom and I don’t talk about anything serious. I try to keep it pretty.
As the eldest, Brett has always taken care of the serious shit. I’m not sure what Lix and Mom talk about. I’ve never asked.
When we started the visits, we did it for her and us. We needed our mom. The ten years of not seeing her were hell. I know she feels guilty for what happened to us, and she doesn’t even know the whole of it. I’m sure she doesn’t know about how tough Lix had it. He doesn’t talk about it much. He tends to keep things to himself. Hell, the secret he kept about Cassie’s abuser blew Brett’s and my mind.
And my life with the Westons. From the outside, they looked like a normal happy family. They were wealthy and had everything. I had everything, but it came with a price, including Miranda’s life.
I sit in a cold plastic chair in the large gloomy room at a table. I stare down at the soda and Mom’s favorite candy bar. I can’t bring anything in for her. What she did for my brothers and me, the abuse she endured, the pain and constant slamming doors that led to my worst nightmares, and all I can give her in return is fucking vending machine shit.
The inmates pile into the room. Gray jumpers tell them apart from everyone else. I find Mom. Her eyes twinkle when she spots me, and she smiles. Her optimism tugs on my heart.
She walks over and sits across from me.
“Hi, Mom,” I say with a returning smile.
“Cole, you look great.” Her eyes bounce on me. “No bruises today. You’ve been staying out of trouble?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. I’ve been literally trying to stay out of trouble. Specifically, the kind of trouble named Harper.
“There’s something different about you.” She continues to inspect me, and her smile turns up in full bloom. “Who is she?”
“What?” Taken aback by the comment, I tilt my head.
“You met someone?”
Fuck mothers and their intuition. There’s no sense in denying it when it’s all she has right now.
“Harper. Her name is Harper James.”
“Oh!” She folds her hands together and leans forward. “Where did you meet her?”
“At a café.” It’s not a lie, and right now, I’d rather be talking about Harper than what Brett assigned me.
“Tell me all about her. What does she look like? Is she from around here? What does she do for a living?”
“She’s beautiful, Mom.” Again, I can’t lie. “She’s from Florida but has been in Texas for the past few years. She’s a social worker.”
