Chapter 24
Gage
Friday night I found myself with Netflix on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it. It merely provided background noise. My focus lay on my iPad, where I was doodling.
Designing, really.
Designing a house for Logan. To share with Logan.
Yeah, I was aware this was a step above making playlists.
I paused in drawing and really looked at what I had mapped out.
I’d started with bubbles first, just intersecting bubbles of where I wanted rooms and in what layout.
The bubbles felt good to me, so I’d refined things from there.
Right now, bubbles were for the ground floor and in the configuration I liked best. Foyer, kitchen, living room, dining room, all the usual suspects.
And then to the left side, I had a list of rooms I wanted for Logan. His own home office, so he could work there instead of at the bar if he so chose. A game room so we could host our friends. A three-car garage so he had room to spread out and work on a car, since I knew he liked to tinker.
I’d learned enough about this man to half design a house with no input from him.
And yet, it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted more. I wanted to know every part of him. Curiosity raged in me like an unquenchable thirst. The level of knowledge I possessed right now felt so inadequate.
I could spend a lifetime learning every bit of him and it wouldn’t be enough.
I huffed out a laugh at myself, because my brain could be so squirrelly. This was how my mind decided to show me how I felt about this man? By designing a house where I could live with him forever and ever?
I’d known I was falling for him, but I guessed my heart had leapt forward faster than I’d realized. I literally fantasized about a future with him. Pretty telling.
Also a little nerve-racking. I’d never even gotten close to this step with someone before.
I could trust my heart to Logan, without question.
He was the most trustworthy man I knew. He’d proven that to me over and over.
Even knowing I could trust him with my heart, it felt so scary to say, to even frame those three little words in my mind.
Why the idea of expressing myself made me feel so vulnerable, I didn’t understand.
Maybe it was my damn trust issues acting up again, I don’t know.
It was just nerve wracking to even think of opening my heart completely, exposing my feelings for him.
I clearly wasn’t ready to make any declarations yet.
But Logan wasn’t demanding anything from me, either. I had time.
Waiting was fine. We’d just started exclusively dating—I didn’t have to make a firm decision or any grand gestures soon. The fact I wanted to in the future was enough for now.
Didn’t stop me from fantasizing and designing Logan a house. Us a house, really.
I wondered if he’d even want a big wedding…?
Someone pounded on my door. Startled, my soul almost left my body, and it took a second for my heart to come back down out of my throat after being scared upward. Who the hell was at my house at eight o’clock on a Friday night? That was some angry pounding.
Should I be armed?
I heard my mother’s voice scream through the wood. “GAGE! I KNOW YOU’RE HOME! OPEN UP!”
Again, should I be armed…?
Well, I was pretty sure I could take her if it came down to it.
I pulled up Zar’s contact on my phone, ready for a speed dial, because I’d never heard her this mad before.
I kept the chain on the door but did crack it open.
Only to issue a warning, though, as I had no intention of letting her into my house.
Seeing her face had me feeling that old pang of guilt again, like a needle stabbing right in my chest. But that was a conditioned response, and I shoved it down.
She looked terrible. Her mascara had run, leaving sooty trails all over her cheeks.
She’d always been short, but right now she looked like a homeless goblin with an oversized shirt, cardigan—in this heat?
!—and sandals. She hadn’t dyed her hair recently, so it was a faded reddish copper with roots showing.
It looked like she’d been through the wringer over the past few days.
Oh, come to think of it, Cooper had gotten thrown into the clink for a drunk and disorderly.
Or something. If she was only coming to me now, then he must have had to do more than pay the fine; he might have gotten some actual jail time.
Part of me was floored by that concept, and a pang of guilt tried to wiggle its way back in.
I shoved it down. If Cooper had mouthed off at the judge—and he probably had—then yeah, the timing of her appearance made sense.
She’d probably been scrambling for days to get him out of trouble, and now she was ready to yell at me about it.
“Cooper called you,” she accused, voice hoarse from all the yelling, probably. Her anger was a livid, breathing thing. “Cooper called you and YOU HUNG UP ON HIM!”
“Why are you so surprised? I told you both I would.”
She stared at me, lost for words.
“I take it you got him out? Didn’t leave him in there to learn his lesson—”
“OF COURSE I GOT HIM OUT!”
“You really shouldn’t have. He’ll never learn if there’s no consequences.” In a deliberately cold manner, I tacked on, “Although I suppose when you’re dead and there’s no one to clean up after him, he’ll learn then. If he’s even still alive.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she stared at me like I was a stranger. “Don’t you even care about us?”
“No. Not really. You keep making this bed of nails to lie in and then crying when it’s not comfortable. Make better choices.”
I’d had enough and closed the door again, locking it.
I stayed there in case she tried to break the window on the door and force her way in, though.
I didn’t know this version of my mother, this insane person who would beat my door so hard it was a wonder she didn’t break her hands.
My nerves skittered with anxiety, and I kept clenching up, then forcing myself to breathe.
If she broke in, I’d call the cops. Not Zar, either.
I’d call police we didn’t know. I wouldn’t deal with her.
Okay, don’t panic. Calm down, calm down. She might leave.
The door bounced when she slammed a fist against it, or kicked it. I wasn’t sure which, and I had a piss-poor angle through the front window. Her temper surprised me, as I’d always seen her as this pathetic person who only knew how to cry and be the victim.
“You’ll regret this, Gage!” she yelled through the door, voice muffled. “No one will stand by you like family will!”
That was the irony of it all. Family had never had my back. I’d always had theirs. It was why she was acting like this, no doubt, flailing when she no longer had support. She’d forgotten how to adult. I had done her a disservice by enabling her bad behavior for so long.
“Cooper won’t even leave the house,” she said with a sob. “He’s scared of a cop seeing him!”
Suuuuure.
“He’s scared of going back to jail!”
May he be so terrified, he never drinks again. Amen.
“You left him in that horrible place! I had to do an emergency call with your father to get enough money for a lawyer, and bail, and the fine that horrible judge gave him to pay! He’s even been ordered to do rehab! REHAB! Like my son is some awful addict!”
Wow, the denial was freaking strong there. Cooper was without a doubt an addict. I mean, she had to bail him out of jail because of a drinking-related charge, but she wouldn’t admit that, huh? Or maybe couldn’t admit it. Couldn’t admit her child was so far gone and she was part of the reason why.
Pity swam through me. This adamant refusal to see reality had never served her well. Not once had it worked in her favor, but she continued to play ostrich rather than owning up to the numerous mistakes she’d made with her children.
I pitied her, yes, but not enough to open the door. Not enough to open her way back into my life.
The door bounced again, there was another scream of pure fury, and then I could see through the front window as she stomped back to her car. She got in, and I think she screamed some more, banging against the steering wheel.
Wow, temper, temper.
It was sad how quickly she’d spiraled with me no longer there to fix things for her.
Even if I’d let guilt get the better of me and apologized, what did she expect me to do, anyway?
I didn’t have a magic wand to make a judge rule in her baby boy’s favor.
I didn’t possess the charisma necessary to get Cooper out of paying a fine.
Me being involved would have made the situation less stressful for those two, but it wouldn’t have helped much in the end.
I realized it was a matter of me being the handy scapegoat. Someone she could yell at and blame everything on, rather than deal with Cooper.
With her in the car, I dared to unclench. My nerves settled a little, too. I patted myself on the back. Good job, me. Turning my phone off and focusing on Logan had absolutely been the right call. And you know what? I was going to do it again.
The second her car pulled out of the driveway, speeding off, I double-checked all locks, shrugged, and went back to the couch. Netflix asked if I was still watching, and I said yes. I lied, but I liked The Great British Baking Show as background noise.
Then I settled right back in with my tablet. It took a minute to completely cast off the furious mood Mom had left at my doorstep, but I was determined. I shook my arms out to get rid of unwanted energy and took several deep, cleansing breaths.
Yeah, I still needed a beer. I got up and snagged one of Logan’s, then a second one. Once I was comfy on my couch, I didn’t want to get up again.
I settled back into the couch and took a sip of beer, letting the taste swish and linger in my mouth.
So Cooper’s boo-boo had resulted in judge-ordered rehab, huh? Well, wasn’t that something. Maybe he’d finally straighten up a little. I knew people who’d failed rehab, so I wasn’t holding my breath, but who knew? Miracles could happen.
Ah, I better warn people, in case her frustration sent my mother ping-ponging to other people’s houses, trying to get someone on her side to gang up on me. I could totally see my mother doing that in her current mood.
I texted in the group chat.
Me: Hey guys, heads-up. Mom’s on the warpath.
Zar: Now what
Me: She’s mad as hell I didn’t go to Cooper’s rescue on Tues
Zar: First of all, good job on that
Zar: Second what did he do
Me: Drunk and disorderly. Judge had him pay a fine, spend a few nights in jail, and mandated rehab
Asher: Ooh la la
Me: Ikr. Needless to say she ain’t happy
Riggs: I’m sure and probably blaming you
Me: Basically yeah so if she shows up at your house don’t answer
Riggs: Roger roger
Cohen: Ha, you called it, she just pulled up to my house
Damn, I should have made a bet. I’d have raked in the money. It somehow figured she’d go to Cohen. He was the “responsible” one of our group, after all. She’d tried leaning on him before, with mixed success.
Me: Don’t engage, man
Cohen: I’m going to talk her down. Maybe parent to parent, she’ll see some reason.
I didn’t see that working out well, but he was free to try. He’d have to get her to see her missteps first, and that would be a tall order. Not sure if anything short of death could do that.
I washed my hands of the situation and sipped more beer. I had daydreaming and house blueprints to occupy me. Frankly, daydreaming of a future with Logan was a far better use of my time.