AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No sleep. Not yet.”
Gia sits up, angry with a questioning look on her face. “Why?”
“Because you need to call your mother. She’s worried about you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gia
I sit up so quickly that I get a little dizzy and shake it off to gape at Preacher.
“You talked to my mom? What’s wrong? Is she okay?” My heart is racing at the idea of Mom worrying about me yet again. “How do you know she’s worried?”
“She’s fine,” he says and wraps a reassuring hand around the back of my neck, bringing me closer until our foreheads touch. “She came by the clubhouse because she hasn’t heard from you.”
Something about his tone doesn’t ring completely honest. “And? What other reason did she come by?”
Mom worries, I know that, but she’s the type to blow up my phone for days, not send out a search party for her wayward daughter.
“Tell me.”
“She was worried about Frank because the cops won’t tell her anything.”
I nod absently at his words. “Thank you for being honest.”
The words come out bitchier than I intended, but I’m upset. At my mom for always putting me behind her latest male obsession, and at myself for still being upset by her behavior.
“I’m always honest, Gia.”
His tone is tight and angry, and I feel bad until I think about what I found earlier.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Not this again. Like you said, I need to call my mom.”
He nods. “Fine. Then we’ll talk.”
I watch his naked ass until he vanishes from sight, and then I reach for my phone, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before I press the button to call home.
“Hey, Mom. It’s me.”
“Gia, oh thank goodness! I’ve been so worried about you.”
About me. Yeah, sure.
“I’m fine, Mom. I just needed to clear my head, and I figured we needed some space from each other.”
“Space.” She says the word like it’s in a foreign language. “I’m your mother, Gia. We don’t need space from each other.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“This from the woman who wanted to kick me out so she and her boyfriend could live happily ever after. Without me.”
I sigh and shake my head because I don’t want to fight with her and because there are no fucking drugs in this house to help me cope with fighting with my mom.
“I’m fine. No need to worry.”
“I always worry,” she says, her voice shaky and low, emotional.
“You don’t have to. I’m safe, and I haven’t had any drugs since the night I left.”
