Page 33 of Unbound

I laugh. I can’t help it.

This shit’s seriously fucked up.

I shake my head, looking down at our feet.

“Fuck you.” I push past her, my shoulder knocking into hers.

Outside, the wind hits my face the instant the heavy metal door pushes open. It smells like cow shit and dirt. Walking to my bike parked on the street, I hang my head knowing I shouldn’t ride, but it’s only two miles down the road to Mom’s house.

I contemplate not going back.

I consider going back to Seattle.

And then I remember Beck’s face and the things they said to me.

I also think of Sophie and the fact that I have a son. A son that deep down, I don’t want to walk away from.

I MAKE IT back to the house and thankfully by the time I do, everyone is gone. The driveway’s free from the cars that once blocked it.

Mom’s in the kitchen when I walk in through the garage, hunched over the sink appearing to be doing dishes. The orange-yellow tint from the light above the sink baths her olive skin tone in a warmth. She reminds me of Raven, the dark brown hair she can’t quite get straight pulled back into a ponytail.

The door closes behind me with a thud, the heavy steps of my boots drawing her attention. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, refusing to give my mom an out. If anyone would have said something, I thought for sure it’d be her.

Mom rolls her eyes when I come closer to her, within a foot as I step around the island in the center of the kitchen. “Well, I see you went to the one place you know so well, didn’t you?”

“I don’t really need a lecture from you. Why didn’t you tell me?” I press harder.

“Because it wasn’t my place to say.”

I roll my eyes and lean back into the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. It’s then I notice the numerous bottles lined up on the drying wrack.

I glance to my left. There’s a high chair tucked back in the corner.

Craning my neck forward, I look to the living room. There’re toys scattered all over the floor.

My blood boils and I heave in a needed breath. “He lives here with you, doesn’t he?”

“He lives with his mother, and yes, she lives here too.”

Today just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

A sarcastic laugh escapes me as I slap my hand against the granite counter. “She lives here? Why would you fucking invite her to live here?”

She jabs her finger into my shoulder. “Don’t use that tone with me, Rawley. And if you’re asking if I invited my grandson and his mother to live here, then yes, I did. And you can’t say anything about it. They didn’t have anywhere to go because she couldn’t afford to raise a child on her own andyouweren’t around.”

The words sting, and they’re meant to.

I don’t say anything else to her and make my way upstairs, my eyes shifting to the room next to mine where I assume she’s at. My hand trembles as I reach for my door handle because I’m reaching for the wrong one. I should be reaching for hers and apologizing, but I don’t. The bitter taste in my mouth swirls.

She lied to me again.

She purposelydidn’ttell me.

I’m sinking, again. I’m that ship lost at sea unable to decipher where I should go and all I see is water, no land in sight.

I want a hit, a line, anything to numb this but I know it’s not the answer. It never was. It can’t be.

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