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Walking into my house and finding my brother sleeping in my guest room—on the hardwood floor, no less—is not what I expect after a long day at work. The pile of paperwork had only grown larger through the night when one of the kitchen staff sliced off the tip of his finger. Between cleaning the blood and writing up a workplace accident report, I was exhausted. I’d been looking forward to making a strong cup of coffee as the sun rose before stumbling into bed. Instead, I’m staring at a sleeping Jason, wondering how the hell he got into my house.
As his snores fill the air, I grab a plastic bowl and fill it with cold water. Jason barely moves as I creep toward him, dumping the water over his head. Water sloshes onto the floor around him, soaking the quilt beneath him and his clothes.
“What the fuck!” he shouts, jumping up from the floor.
“How did you get into my house?” As much as I love Jason, there is a reason why I’ve never given him a key.
“Mom gave me the key.”
Mumbling under my breath, I drop the bowl in the kitchen sink. Then I stalk to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. My mother is too intrusive for her own good, as if her having a child outside of her marriage wasn’t enough of a clue.
Her biggest problem is respecting boundaries. No matter how many times I try to set them, she seems to find a way to crash through them by the following week. She has yet to find a boundary she can’t disrespect.
Growing up, she’d always been distant but as I’d gotten older, she became more interested in trying to control my life. Now, she’s always doing whatever she can to push me toward the life she wants for me.
If she believes sending my little brother to stay with me will urge me to buy the house she thinks I’ll love—in the neighborhood she thinks is best suited for me—then she’ll cut him as many keys as he needs, even if I tell her not to.
Before calling my mother, I try to take a few minutes to calm down. Getting hyped up and emotional while talking to her won’t get me very far. When I’m sure I won’t start yelling the moment she answers the call, I grab my phone and dial her number.
“Hello, Liam,” she says. “I see that you’re finally calling your poor mother. You know, I’m not getting any younger. Are you calling to tell me that you and that nice young woman you were going to marry are getting back together? You know I’ve always liked her. And with my not getting any younger, I need grandchildren soon.”
“Botox would say otherwise,” I say before I can stop myself. I don’t know who she thinks she’s talking to either. Chloe and I ended our relationship on less than good terms and I plan to leave it in the past. “That’s not what I’m calling you about, though. Why does Jason have a key to my house?”
“Because I made him a copy of my key.”
“And why would you do that?” I can feel a headache building. Not surprising, as they tend to visit me whenever I have to deal with the woman who gave birth to me and has been the source of conflicting emotions over the years. “Your key was given to you for emergencies. It was not to give others access to my home.”
“Why didn’t he have a key in the first place? He’s your brother.”
“He might be my brother, but that doesn’t mean he needs a key to my house.”
“You should be thanking me for bringing the family together,” she says with a sniff. “I’ve spent years trying to put this family back together after you broke it.”
Resisting the urge to throw my phone through the wall took strength I didn’t know I had. No matter how long I go without speaking to her, my mom always finds a way to bring up my shortcomings. It’s never as simple as a conversation between a mother and son who want to catch up.
“You mean since I decided not to do every single thing you and Dad wanted.”
She sighs. “Liam, you had a good life set out in front of you.”
“I still have a good life. I own several successful bars. I’ve made a life for myself without the trust fund.”
The trust fund had come with endless amounts of strings that I didn’t want. I had left that life behind when I was young, determined to make it on my own. I did make it on my own, and I’m damn proud of myself for doing it. I didn’t need their money then, and I certainly don’t need their money now.
“Imagine the life you could have had if you had just followed the requirements of the trust.”
“That was the best decision I ever made. You know nothing about boundaries or allowing people to be themselves. All you care about is what your friends at the country club think about that stupid family image you try to uphold. I’m done, and I’ve been done with all that for a long time.”
She laughs as if what I’ve said is the best joke she has ever heard. “Liam, you and I both know you won’t turn your back on this family. Now, we need to talk about your father’s birthday dinner.”
“No. We’ve talked enough for one night. Don’t give out a key to my house anymore, or I’ll change all the locks.”
Before she can say anything else, I end the call and toss my phone onto the dresser. The floorboards outside my bedroom creak as Jason creeps down the hall. I don’t know where he thinks he’s going, but there are things we need to get clear.
“If you’re going to stay here, you’re not going to be a pain in my ass,” I say, stepping into the hall and crossing my arms. “That means that I don’t want any parties. You’re going to clean up after yourself like a grown man. And you’re making breakfast.”
Jason grins, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. “You’re not going to regret this.”
