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“Hard with a broomstick,” Joseph chimed in.
“Or a knife.” Hana put her two cents into the mix.
“That’s dark, Hana.” I bumped her shoulder so she knew I was still joking. She wasn’t a cold-blooded killer the way I was.
“I’ll be back in a couple days,” Bethany announced, ignoring my partners. “So we can talk about the future of this baby.”
“It better be for money to get an abortion,” I whispered in her ear as I walked by and grabbed her roughly by the arm to escort her out.
“I’m an honest Catholic girl. Abortion is against my religion.”
Instead of speaking with her more and wasting my breath, I shoved her into the hall and slammed the door in her face. I immediately locked it.
Then came the absurd thumping. Bethany was in the hallway, kicking and banging and cursing my name. Bethany with all her threats didn’t scare me. Her teaming up with my mother didn’t surprise me. No, it was facing the music with my partners that had me shaking in my metaphorical boots. Not for the last time, I wished Luke had never been born.
Bethany better get out of my way or she’d find herself at the end of my knife. Just. Like. Luke.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Joseph
I can’t keep doing this.I thought as I saw my baby girl’s face fall as soon as Logan escorted the homewrecker out of my apartment. I couldn’t keep seeing her in pain. It was one thing when I was on the sidelines watching Luke destroy her. Another when I knew Logan coerced her and didn’t stop it. But Bethany? Fuck that. My baby girl deserved the world, and I was sick of it shitting on her.
“What do we do now?” Hana looked to me like I had the answers.
“Oh, baby girl. I haven’t the faintest idea.” I said in my most posh voice.
We broke out into a strained laughter. At least she was smiling. I wanted to capture this moment. Hana’s shining eyes. The way her mouth quirked just so. It wasn’t a full-on smile where she had chubby cheeks and looked adorable. No, this one was more of a sweet fondness. Something we shared even without being intimate.
My phone rang, pulling me away from Hana. I held up a finger and stepped out onto the balcony. We never used it, but it’s a great place to have a conversation as long as neighbors across the courtyard weren’t home. Plus, Bethany was still making a ruckus in the hallway.
“Hello?” I didn’t look to see who was calling me.
“Joseph?” A familiar voice came down the line.
I held the phone away from my face to check the caller ID. Unknown was all it said. Who the fuck? “Who is this?” I demanded, wanting to get back to Hana as soon as I could.
“God, please send your angels down to touch my son in his time of confusion,” she mumbled.
Ugh. This was definitely my mother. “Why are you calling me? It’s been years.”
I shouldn’t have even entertained this conversation, but I refused to be a piece of shit just because they were.
“You act like I didn’t raise you for almost eighteen years of your life,” my mother snapped.
I sighed, it was the same old song and dance. “I know that, mom, but you kicked me out and told me not to come back until I was straight. I’m still not straight, so there’s no reason for you to be calling me.”
There was a long pause. “I’d thought you’d have forgiven us already. All this hate isn’t good for your soul.”
Fuck that shit. “You brought this on yourself with your intolerance.”
“I’m calling to tell you that it’s time to come home for a visit.”
She acted as if the past thirteen years had never happened. “Why? Why would I do that? Please, enlighten me.”
“Your father is in the hospital and wants to see you one last time,” my mother explained callously.
I drew in a shaky breath and hung up, then sank into the plastic chairs Hana had bought because they seemed cute. They were flamingo pink and more for the beach than a balcony.
