6. #2
“Try again,” I ordered menacingly.
“Mom, Dad’s being . . . he’s making . . . Ugh!”
“You have two minutes to vent using whatever words you see fit, and then we’re going to speak rationally.”
“That motherfucker thinks he can pull me out of school and send me to some boot camp because I did one fucking thing wrong. I’ve heard him laugh about the stupid shit he did when he was young, but I come home late one fucking time and he’s all about shipping me off and saying it’s for my own good!
I’m a good fucking kid, Mom, and I’m a good fucking guy, but he can’t see it because I’m not like him and I’m never gonna be.
Fuck him, fuck his rules, fuck his threats, and fuck his stupid boarding school bullshit!
I can’t believe he’s such a fucking asshole.
I never want to speak to him again! What a dick! ”
“Time’s up, baby,” I said gently. “Take a few deep breaths and let’s get on track, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Max said right before a door slammed and an engine roared to life.
“Oh, no, sir, you will not be driving anywhere in this state of mind!”
“I’m just gonna sit here with the AC on because it’s hot as balls outside and I’m not going back into his house.”
“Promise me you won’t go anywhere,” I said urgently.
“I promise.”
I stood up straight, put the phone on speaker, and hurriedly texted my brothers, hoping one or both could rescue Max.
I considered sending the same text to my dad but knew exactly how that would turn out.
Although the thought of never seeing Robert or hearing his voice again tempted me, I didn’t want to rob Max of the opportunity to salvage his relationship with his father.
The urge was almost overwhelming, but I resisted and felt relieved when both Terran and Spruce replied quickly to say they were headed to Robert’s to pick up Max and his car for the night.
“Are you a little calmer, baby?”
Max sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “I am, but I probably shouldn’t drive yet.”
“Your uncles are on the way to get you and your car now, so talk to me while we wait.”
“Why didn’t you call Pop?” Max asked.
I laughed softly. “You know damn good and well why I didn’t call your grandfather.”
Max giggled like a little kid. “It might be fun to watch the fireworks, but I wouldn’t want to deal with the fallout.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was late for curfew last night.”
“How late?”
Max sighed. “Eighteen minutes.”
“Unacceptable, but mostly understandable.”
“Dad lost his shit, Mom. He’s been . . . I don’t know how to describe it, but he’s been different lately. Ricky Bobby has seen it too.”
“Stop calling your brother Ricky Bobby,” I said out of habit.
It was an old argument that started years ago when Robby got his first go-kart.
His driving was so erratic that some of my cousins compared his behavior on the track to one of their favorite movies, and the nickname stuck once they realized his best friend’s initials spelled Cal, the other character in the popular flick.
Robby’s nickname didn’t irritate me nearly as much as it did my ex-husband, which explained the lack of heat in my voice when I told Max to stop using it.
“When are you coming home, Mom?”
“As soon as I know you’re safe with Spruce and Terran, I’ll book a flight,” I promised.
“No, I didn’t mean you should cut your trip short. I was just asking. The note with the info was on the fridge, but when Dad started throwing things, it fell, so I . . .”
“He was throwing stuff?” I asked in shock.
Yes, my ex was an asshole, but he’d never reacted that way, even when I lost my temper and let my words fly.
“He’s been doing that a lot lately,” Max whispered. There was no doubt in my mind he had kept that change in Robert’s behavior to himself because my sons knew exactly how I would react. Even worse, they knew how their grandfather and the rest of our extended family would react.
“A lot? What else is going on, Max?” When my son stayed silent for too long, I asked, “Has he ever hit you?”
“I guess you’re gonna find out anyway, so I might as well tell you.”
“Tell me what, baby?”
“I’ve got a black eye.”
I cleared my throat and tried to steady my voice. “Your father gave you a black eye?”
“Yeah.”
“When did that happen, son?”
“A little bit ago.”
“Is this the first time he’s ever hit you?”
“No.”
“Okay,” I said firmly, my heart starting to race. “Right now, we’re going to deal with the present, and when I get back to town, we’ll talk about what happened before.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can, sweetheart.”
“No. I want you to stay in New York for a while.”
“Why?”
Max chuckled. “So you can calm down.”
“I’m calm.”
“Mom. You’re the kind of calm you get when you ask us about something we did that we know is wrong, not the kind of calm that means we’re having ice cream for dinner.”
“We haven’t done that in a while, have we?” I asked with a smile.
“We’ll do it when you come back, okay?” Before I could answer, Max said, “The brainiacs are here.”
“I’ll put the word out and see if anyone is going to Colorado so you can hang out with Parker until I come home, okay?”
“Or . . .” Max paused dramatically, and I knew exactly what he was about to say. “You could let me drive up by myself.”
I wondered if that might actually be the better idea, especially since this was technically Robert’s week and he could cause a ruckus by reporting Max as missing and accusing whoever took him of kidnapping.
I knew the charge wouldn’t hold up in court, but it would cause headaches I didn’t want my family dealing with in the meantime.
“Make sure you check your oil and tires before you get on the road.”
“Seriously?” Max asked, suddenly excited. “You’re kidding!”
“I want you to follow the posted speed limits and . . .”
“Mom, come on,” Max interrupted. “I’ve ridden back and forth on that road a million times, and I’ve even driven with you and Parker more than once. You know I’ll be safe.”
I leaned forward and rested my forehead against the window again as tears filled my eyes. I trusted my son, but letting go was so hard, especially since Max was my youngest.
“I know you are, but it’s my right to worry.”
“I love you, and I’ll text you before I leave the shop.”
“If you don’t, I’ll get on my broom and come find you.”
“Brooms are so last century, Mom. Swiffer is the way to go now.”
“Smartass.”
“I get it from my mama,” Max retorted. “Okay, I’m going to go. I’ll have the brainiacs call you later, okay?”
“When they see your eye, they’re gonna lose their shit. Brainiacs or not, they’re still Parkers.”
“I’m half Parker, so I can deal with ‘em,” Max boasted. “Love you!”
“Love you, too, baby,” I whispered as my son ended the call. “Love you so much.”
“Kitten.”
I was so surprised that I acted without thinking and spun around, lifting my fist. It connected with a thump. Ziggy Romano staggered back, tripped over his own feet, and landed like a starfish in the middle of my bed.
“If you wanted me in your bed again, you could have just asked.”
“What are you doing in my room?” I yelled, not amused by his banter. I wasn’t about to admit my shame at him seeing me cry, so I shouted, “Why were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“I came up here to goad you into coming down to dinner, but I realized you had more on your plate than just cowardice, so I . . .”
“I’m not a coward!” I interrupted as Ziggy stood up and walked toward me.
“I know, Kitten,” Ziggy said, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring down at me. “You’re a mama bear whose cub is far away.”
“He hit him!” I wailed, shocked to hear the words aloud and terrified of what else I didn’t know yet.
“Want me to have him killed?” Ziggy asked as casually as if he were offering me a piece of gum.
Tears filled my eyes again. “He hit my baby, Ziggy. If anyone’s gonna kill him, it will be me.”
“Come here, Kitten,” Ziggy said as he pulled me into his arms. “Let me hold you while we plot his death.”