Page 16 of The Pass Protection
Bret’s head shakes as she waves her hands, mouthing no.
Ringing in my ear has me pulling away the phone to see the FaceTime request from my mom. Tipping my head against the headboard, I accept her call. “Hi, my handsome boy. As much as I love looking at my son, turn me around so I can meet your new roommate.”
Doing as she requests, I turn the phone and watch Bret’s face morph into shock before she runs her fingers through her lengthy black hair.
“Oh my goodness, Crew, she’s stunning.”
“Th-thank you, Mrs. Riggsby,” Bret replies, fumbling over her words as she strides closer to the bed. Sliding over, I make room for Bret to sit on the bed next to me. She does, and what she does next surprises me even more. Instead of sitting on the edge of the bed, she brings her body closer to mine so that we are flush. Our backs against the headboard so my mom can see both of us in the frame.
Mom watches as Bret gets comfortable, moisture glistening in her eyes. I swear she better not cry right now. I love my mother, but she’s an emotional woman. I’ve seen her cry more than imaginable. If she’s feeling uneasy, she cries. If she’s happy, she cries. If she’s sad, she cries. If she’s overwhelmed, you might as well forget it, as she’ll find herself shedding all the tears until she can’t breathe.
“Honey, call me Nora. Mrs. Riggsby is my mother-in-law.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nora. You’ve raised a good one over here.” Bret nudges her shoulder against mine as she smiles up at me.
“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart? It was really nice to meet you, too. Now, you both go on and enjoy your night. Bret, I hope to meetyou next weekend at the game. Crew, call your mother more, and don’t forget what we discussed.” She gives me a pointed look before softening her gaze on Bret.
Bret smiles at the camera and nods while I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mom, I’ll call you more. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweets.” Hanging up on the call, I toss my phone before rolling my head to face Bret. Only by doing that, it brings our faces even closer together. My eyes find those full lips. Her bottom lip is more plump than the top. The perfect size to quickly suck into my mouth like I did that first night when she arrived.
It’s her that moves away first. Her hand slaps my thigh as she stands. “C’mon, let’s go eat dinner before Tyler gets cranky or we let the food go bad.”
Following Bret to the dining table, Harris placed all the food out and was scrolling on his phone, waiting for us. “It’s about time, assholes. I didn’t make all this food for it to go cold.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. My mom wanted to meet the new roomie.” Sitting in my seat, I reach for a roll, which is still warm.
“How’s Mama Riggs?” Harris reaches for a steak before passing the platter to Bret.
“She’s good.” Taking a bite, I let the warmth of the buttery pastry melt against my tongue. Hawaiian rolls are the superior roll. Reaching for the asparagus, I pause midair. “Wait, did Bret make anything?”
Her vibrant eyes shimmer as she rolls them. But it’s Harris who speaks as he cuts his medium-rare steak. “She put the asparagus in the oven.”
I nod. Okay, that should be safe. Her brother has told me on more than one occasion that Bret is the worst cook and no one eats anything she prepares. It’s either burned, disgustingly bland, or highly over seasoned. Spearing a spear of asparagus with my fork, I shove the wholething into my mouth. As soon as the spear hits my tongue, I’m instantly regretting my decision. Quickly chewing the green vegetable, I try to rush the process and swallow the disgusting thing in my mouth.
As Harris reaches for the asparagus, I knock his fork out of the way and shovel more spears onto my plate. “Jesus, Crew.”
“So good,” I mumble around the disgusting, oversalted vegetable.
Bret eyes me skeptically, but I just smile.
She stands from her chair and heads into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Harris is eyeing me as I work the chewed food down my throat and immediately reach for my water.
“What’s with you?”
“It’s awful,” I whisper. “Don’t let her salt anything.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve got it so bad.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, cutting into the steak as Bret returns.
A look of disgust is plastered onto her face, and she gives me a soft punch in the shoulder as she walks by. “You jerk! The asparagus is disgusting!”
Laughter breaks out around us as she sags in her chair. “I can’t believe you ate that and said it was good.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“No, you thought you’d risk a stroke by spiking your blood pressure with all that salt. It’s like drinking straight from the ocean.” She shivers, and I lift a shoulder.
