Page 82 of Bad Boy for Hire
“Did you tell Mom and Dad?”
“No.”
“You hiding it?”
“I’m picking my moment.”
“Dude.”
Xavier glared at him. His brother was already on thin ice.
Lynx plopped down at the kitchen table and sucked down half a can of Coke. After a belch, he said, “Wonder what they’ll say.”
“Well.” Xavier piled his sandwich fixings onto the counter. “You can find out for yourself when we go there today.”
“We?”
“Yes. I’m taking you home.”
Lynx had argued about wanting to stay one more night, to which Xavier had replied, “Tough shit.”
Xavier had eaten the sandwich he hadn’t wanted. He’d also typed five texts to May but hadn’t sent any of them. He’d almost called her but chickened out in the end.
He couldn’t blame her for being pissed at him. When she’d listed the decisions he’d made without talking to her, he’d been pissed at himself. He hadn’t intentionally left her out, it’d just sort of…happened.
Which was no excuse at all.
Her leaving had felt final. Final, final. And while he hadn’t wanted her to go, he couldn’t blame her for that either. He’d told the truth when he admitted to failing in the past and not wanting to do it again. Screwing up a baby’s life was an awful prospect.
He supposed that worrying about screwing up their kids was every parent’s cross to bear. Fair or not, kids grew up thinking their parents were out of touch, only to realize they were doing their best at the time. Didn’t make him feel any better about leaving it to chance, though.
Xavier had arrived at their parents’ house, Lynx in tow. Lynx had thrown him under the bus the moment they’d set foot inside. Their father had remarked on Lynx’s black eye, and Lynx had used the perfect distraction tactic. “Talk to Xav. He’s the one with the pregnant girlfriend. If she’s even his girlfriend.”
Lynx had practically sprinted to his basement bedroom. Every muscle in Xavier’s body had tensed. He’d wanted to chase him downstairs and blacken his other eye, but he didn’t. He’d stayed in the room with his parents to explain.
A soft knock at the bedroom door lifted him out of the memory. His mother peeked in, silently asking to come in. He patted the mattress next to him.
She was dressed in a pale pink sweater, jeans, and a pair of house slippers. Her chin-length hair was dyed blonde. Even so, there was more gray than he’d remembered being there before.
She sat next to him and rubbed his shoulder. “It’s called Robin’s Egg. The paint.”
“Looks blue to me.”
“Well, yes, smartass. Robin’s Egg is blue.”
“What color was it before?” Why couldn’t he remember that?
“Greige.”
“That’s a color?”
She hummed, but when she spoke again, she didn’t talk about paint. “You know, Lynx isn’t off the hook. He owes us an explanation about how he ended up gambling away his money and getting beat up. He’s too old to be acting like that.”
“I don’t know if he’s too old to be acting like that, but he’s too old to be living at home and acting like that. If he’s going to fuck up, he should do that while living on his own. Like I did.”
“Yes, well, you were more mature at his age.” His mother didn’t reprimand him for swearing, which was telling. This conversation was between a mother and son but also between two adults.
“Maybe he learned his lesson.” But he doubted it. Lynx was stubborn and thought he was right all the time. “That or he’ll learn it in a few years.”
