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With tears welling in my eyes—because I could feel that something was wrong—I turned toward the door and let a couple fall down my cheeks. “You’re welcome,” I whispered, grabbing the door handle and pulling it open. “I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too,” she hummed. “Can you shut the light off?”
After turning off the light and shutting the door, I stepped out into the hallway and leaned my forehead against the wood, my hands balled into tight fists by my sides. I cursed to myself over and over, loathing this feeling inside of me.
I shouldn’t have given her the pills. I shouldn’t have fed into her addiction.
But I couldn’t see her in pain.
“João?” Imani asked, peeking into the hallway from the living room.
Body tensing, I refused to turn around and look back at her. I didn’t want her to see how fucked up this made me, how fucking sick all of the Redwood rich had forced me to become. I was supposed to be the fearless fucking leader of Poison.
Not a bitch who cried for his mom.
Imani hurried down the hall, her footsteps quick.
“Don’t touch me,” I said between gritted teeth, hoping she’d walk away and forget it.
Before I knew it, her arms were around my torso, and her ear was pressed against my back. Her body felt so warm behind me, her breathing surprisingly even and steady. And while I might’ve wanted to push her away and tell her to get out, I let her hug me.
Because she always knew exactly what I needed.
A couple moments passed, and I finally unraveled my hands, still holding the pill bottle in one, and turned around. Unable to stop myself, I wrapped her into a hug and held back the sob that threatened to escape my throat.
The truth was fucking ugly.
I didn’t trust Mom with the pills.
