A buzzing starts in my ears. “Yeah? What about?”
“She didn’t say. I think it’s a good idea, since you apparently haven’t met in years.”
“Ask her whose fault that is.”
“You were in prison, Mr. Tucker.”
“Ask her whose fault that is, too.”
“What are you saying?”
“Fuck.” I pull the cell from my ear, resist the urge to throw it against the wall. “Why do you care, anyway, if she wants to talk to me or not?”
There’s a long pause at the other end of the line.
“She’s in jail, waiting for her trial, isn’t she?” Sweat trickles down my back. “Nobody bailed her out.”
“She’s in jail, yes. Mr. Tucker… Seth. She has talked to me about you. How she misses you. She’s depressed. I thought it might be good if you talked to her. This isn’t my job. I’m only doing it because I want to help.”
“Good for who?” I whisper, choking on my anger and sadness. “Is she… is she there? I mean, are you with her right now?”
“No, but I’m heading there. I could call you when I see her.” Cautious. “Would you like that?”
Yes.
No.
Fuck.
“Don’t take too long,” I growl, “or I might change my goddamn mind.”
I hang up before he has a chance to reply.
***
The call comes as I climb off the bus, heading to Damage for my training. I debate ignoring it and never returning this guy’s calls again—but as I said: it’s pathetic how much I want to believe she didn’t mean to hurt me—or Shane. That she’s capable of love. Or loving me.
Because—my brain tells me—if my own mom can’t love me, then what chance do I stand with anyone else? With Manon.
Yeah, I’m seriously fucked-up. Knowing it doesn’t help.
And fuck, then I hear her voice.
“Seth? That you?” she asks.
For the first time in years, the first time since that fateful evening.
I stop, lean against the wall of a random building and close my eyes. Fuck, this is killing me. “Mom.”
“Oh God, it is you. Missed you, baby.” Her voice cracks, and it only pisses me off more.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I can’t help a snort of disgust. “What the fuck?”
“Why, Seth?” Goddammit, she sounds confused. I wonder if she’s acting for John Adams, or any other corrections officer there. “What happened to you?”
That startles a bark of laughter out of me. It’s raw and bitter and it burns my throat.
“What happened to me? Jesus, you’ve got balls to ask me that after you and you asshole of a husband set us up to take the fall for you, while you ran away with the cash you made. Did you stop to think what it would fucking do to me? To Shane?”
“Shane? Why to Shane?”
Jesus. I press my thumb between my eyes, to relieve the pressure. “Like you don’t know. Shane came to find me, tried to help me. Remember how you left me, with my knee blown, my leg broken, my arm smashed?” Remembered pain shudders through me. “He got arrested, too, taken in as accessory when the narcs rolled in. Less time than I got, but it was enough.”
“Enough for what?” Her fake sadness and confusion has bled away into pure curiosity.
“What do you think, mom? You’ve been in prison, too. Don’t you know what happens to pretty, young, exotic boys like Shane?”
She makes a strange sound, maybe a sob, maybe a laugh.
I don’t care.
“He’s prettier than I am. Or was. You should see him now, all bulked up.” A knot in my throat forces me to stop and swallow hard. “He’s stronger on the outside, but inside…”
God help me, I’ll reach across the line and kill her for putting him through that hell.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers. “Oh God, not Shane. Never wanted this to happen.”
“What about me? Don’t you care for what happened to me?”
“Oh, you were always strong, Seth. I knew you’d make it.”
“Screw you.” A crack inside my chest tears wide open. “I know he was always your favorite.” More than me, her own son. “He reminds you of my father, doesn’t he? You were in love, and Shane looks just like him.”
She says nothing.
Fuck. Why did I think this was a good idea? There is my answer. She didn’t even ask how I fared in prison. Doesn’t care.
“Do you feel guilty at all?” The need to know is overwhelming. “Any remorse for what you did to us? For the fucking unfairness of it?”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.
Enough of this bullshit. “Goodbye, Mom.”
“Seth…”
I wait, chewing on my rage, on my bone-deep sadness. “What?”
“It’s not that Shane reminds me of your father. It’s that you remind me of myself. And that hurts.”
I disconnect the call and slide down the wall until my ass hits the concrete sidewalk. Fucking awesome.
Hell if that didn’t break me up all over again.
Chapter Eighteen
Manon
The day goes by in a blur, as I run from class to class, and it’s all interesting and kind of stressful, but my mind is elsewhere.
All I can see is a pair of warm, dark eyes, a wicked smile, an inked body sprawled on my bed. All I can hear is his deep voice, whispering my name. And I can feel the pain of his past through the cracks that he allows to show in his armor.
Somehow it all draws me in, the combination of his strength, his gruff sexiness and the vulnerability behind the handsome façade, in ways I never thought possible. Not even sure anymore what it was I felt, or thought I felt for Fred, because it’s nowhere near as strong and deep as what I’m feeling for Seth.
My body needs him. My mind seeks him. Being away from him even for a few hours hurts.
This is crazy.
How did I ever think I wanted Fred that way? Can’t imagine it now. I liked Fred, but the thought of kissing him or touching him? Makes me feel slightly sick.
I need to come clean with Seth about what happened with Fred—what happened and what didn’t, and all these tangled feelings and thoughts.
But I’m scared. Seth probably doesn’t feel that way about me. I mean, the few times I tried telling him, showing him, he just shut down and changed the topic. Told me this doesn’t mean anything.
Jeez, Manon.
Can’t imagine kissing, touching any other guy. Being with anyone else. He was right: whenever I close my eyes, it’s him I see, him I feel.
I need to fight this attraction, these feelings. Maybe it’s all because I was lonely, and scared of the changes in my life. Because he saw me, and listened, and touched me.
What if this time isn’t real, either?
Feel like I’m going crazy. Have to do something to take my mind off Seth. So I call Cassie. She’s been texting me, although not as often as in the past. She’s wary of me, not sure where I stand.
Me neither.
We meet at a coffee shop near the university for lunch. Again she’s dressed in jogging pants, a hoodie and running shoes. With her blond hair in a tight ponytail and no make-up on, she looks unfamiliar.
Pretty, but not impressively so. Kinda sweet and childish-like, with her large blue eyes and pouty mouth.
She gives me a smile, and I smile back.
“Going running?” I nod at her choice of clothes. “I thought you weren’t working at that sports shop anymore.”
“I’m not.” She slides into the seat across from me and puts her bag down with a sigh. “Got a job at a gym downtown.”
“Nice.” I shake my head. “Why don’t you major in something related to sports or athletics if you like them so much, girl?”
I know money isn’t the problem. Her family is well off.
“Nah. Not in a hurry to decide what to do with my life. Or discussing it with my family.”
Family may be the problem, though. From the things she’s told me—few and in between—they don’t get along much. Never thought it might be a reason she hasn’t gone to college.
Maybe it’s not. Maybe taking your time to find out what you really want to do with your life isn’t a bad plan, after all. I had mine mapped out since I was twelve, and where did that take me?