Page 12 of Lone Star Longing
Vicious cycle.
He let his mom pick the table, and she positioned herself so she could glare at those very waiters and waitresses. One broke away from the group, her body language saying all he needed to know about her willingness to wait on them.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” asked without enthusiasm, passing out place settings and menus.
They placed their order, and Beck retreated behind the menu. He was pretty hungry, since he hadn’t stopped for lunch, and breakfast had just been coffee and a protein bar. Maybe a chicken fried steak.
“What are you going to get?” he asked his mother, wondering if he should monitor what she ate because of her diabetes, or if she would do it. Or if would really be so terrible if she ate something she wanted, since she didn't get to go out to eat often.
“I don't know. I can’t read past the grime on this menu.”
Silently, he plucked the menu from her hand and replaced it with his. There was no noticeable grime on the plastic coating, and he refrained from sighing at his mother’s pervasive negative attitude. He was amazed that he and his siblings had emerged remotely normal.
But he wasn't going to let her get to him. He would be out of here in a day or two, once he arranged for someone to come work on the house.
How long would that take?
Chapter Four
LACEY WAS SHAKING WITHexhaustion when she got home. This pregnancy was taking a lot out of her, and she was only a couple of months into it.
And she hadn’t told her dad yet. He was going to be so disappointed in her. But tonight, she was too tired to deal with drama. But that was every night, wasn't it?
“You look done in,” her dad said, from his wheelchair. The hip replacement had gone well, and he should be out of the chair, but he felt more secure in it. She couldn't fault him for that. “Why don't I take you to dinner in town?”
“Oh, Dad.” She didn't want to cook dinner, after cooking dinner already twice today. But the idea of taking him to town, carting around his wheelchair, was overwhelming. She used to do meal prep for herself and her dad, like she did for her patients, but she had been so tired this weekend, she hadn’t done it this week, and now she was regretting the choice.
Maybe she would take him up on the dinner, but dang. The thought of lifting the wheelchair in and out of the car made her back ache.
God, if she was this tired now, how was she going to work when she was nine months pregnant?
“Yeah, okay, we can go.” He was probably tired of being in the house all day himself, and she really didn't want to cook.
To her surprise, her dad hefted himself out of the chair and reached for a nearby cane.
“You don’t want take the chair?”
