Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
NORTH
I don’t want to be here. I want to be at home, on my knees, scrubbing every inch of my floors and ridding the place of every speck of dust. It’s not a total pigsty, but it’s also not very nice, and I know Leo’s used to a certain level of luxury I can’t possibly provide.
I’m also starting to panic because he’s about to see my life in its ugly reality.
The fact that I’m broke as fuck. The fact that half my money goes to taking care of my mom.
The fact that sometimes I have to leave at a moment’s notice to take care of something she needs, because that’s been my job for a long goddamn time now.
I don’t know how to tell my mom no, and I’m well aware it’s a problem I need to fix in myself. I can’t make my mom better than she already is, and bending to her every whim isn’t helping. But I’m not sure how to stop.
I breathe deeply, then turn to find Rune standing in the doorway with a small frown on his face.
“What did he break today?”
Rune’s lips twitch. “Nothing. I have to make sure all the computers updated, and I just got done with dispatch.” He sounds exhausted, and he’s walking a little stiffly as he comes into the room and sinks into a recliner.
I think back to our park day, to the man in the truck and the way Rune looked when he was leaving with him, and I feel a pulse of worry.
“So, the other day—”
“I’d rather not,” he says, cutting me off a little sharply. “It’s nothing personal, but I’m not going to talk about it.”
I lick my lips. “I know you said you weren’t being hurt—” I stop. He didn’t say that. He said whatever I thought it was, it wasn’t.
His gaze flickers to the side, and then he looks at me. “There are people in the world who exist simply to make everything as complicated as possible. He’s one of them. And talking about it doesn’t help. It just makes me hyperfixate on all the things I want to change and can’t.”
“Is there anything I can do, or—”
“No.” His word is once again very sharp, but I know he’s not trying to be cruel. Rune scrubs at his face. “I don’t want to sound like a dick, but the shit I’m dealing with…” He trails off and doesn’t speak again.
I almost laugh. “You know I can take it, right? I understand more than you think.”
“Really?” He gives me a side-eye, and I figure, hey, if I’m going to ask him to open up, I can do that too.
“Look, my mom was really young when she had me. After a while, she ended up meeting and dating a guy named Jimmy.”
Rune bites his lip. Something about the name Jimmy tends to invoke that reaction in people.
“My grandparents had taken me on a vacation, and when I got home, my mom had moved him into our place. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment, and my mom slept on the couch, and I had the bedroom for a long time. Then I walked in and found all my stuff in the dining room. She hung a shower curtain on the wall so I could have privacy.”
“Jesus,” he whispers.
I shrug. “She became different after that. I didn’t understand what was going on at first. When I asked her, she said it was her turn to be selfish for a while.
And the next thing I knew, mom had one baby and another one on the way.
She and Jimmy moved into a new house, and they put me in the attic. ”
His eyes go wide. “The attic? Like where the rats live?”
I grimace at the memory. “No rats, but it was unfinished and not insulated, and full of little nasties that still give me nightmares. And you know some of the rest.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs softly.
I shrug. “It’s hard to talk about, but I wanted you to know that when I say I get it, I mean it. Whatever you have going on, I can probably understand at least some of it.”
He bites his lip, then lets out a puff of air. “I have a son.”
My entire body jolts. A son? No one—and I mean no one—knows this. Maybe Camilo, since he pretty much runs this place, but I know for a fact that Easton doesn’t.
And if anyone else does, they’re amazing at keeping this secret.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” he begs. “Not even Easton. I know you two are a thing—”
My face goes suddenly hot. “Oh no. No. Seriously, we are not a thing. Just best friends,” I assure him, and for a second, he looks oddly relieved. “I won’t tell him about this. I swear.”
He eyes me for a second, then nods and leans back, tugging on a strand of long hair that’s escaped his hair tie.
“He’s an amazing kid. He just turned twelve.
My first-ever girlfriend and I weren’t careful.
She had a bunch of health issues and didn’t think she could get pregnant, so when she missed several periods, she didn’t worry too much. But apparently we should have worried.”
“Shit.”
Rune laughs. “Yeah. His name is Elio. Great kid, but, uh…he’s also medically complicated.
” He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask him to.
“My parents had the resources to help, hers didn’t.
She had big dreams, and mine were smaller and I wanted to be a dad, so I took the parent role, and she moved abroad. ”
“Oh,” I breathe out. I have no idea what to say.
He waves me off. “It works for us. She’s amazing, and Elio loves her.
Raising him gave me time to really look at myself, and I realized that while I’m definitely bi, I prefer men.
I thought dating would get less complicated once I understood myself, but it turns out you’re not exactly a catch when you’re a single dad with almost no free time. ”
I grimace. I don’t understand turning someone away because they have a kid, but I also don’t know jack shit about dating. “Sorry.”
He waves me off. “It is what it is. But when I met my ex, I was so distracted by the thought that someone wanted me, that when he pushed for marriage after six weeks, I agreed.”
“Oh, Rune. No.”
“Yeahhhhh.” He rubs a hand down his face. “It wasn’t my finest moment. Getting rid of him has been…hard. He disappeared for a while to dodge my attempts to serve him with divorce papers, but he’s back now.”
“Is he…does he…hurt you?”
Rune sighs heavily. “Not in the way you’re thinking. He knows all my soft spots and knows how to poke at them for the maximum amount of pain with the least amount of effort. But he’s also lazy, and he won’t keep this up forever. My plan is to wait him out.”
“Tell me he’s not around your son,” I say.
“No. Elio won’t give him the time of day, and trust me, that kid is sharp as fuck with his words. He makes grown adults cry when he wants to.” Rune smiles proudly, and I suddenly want to meet this kid.
“You know, if you ever want to, like…tell the guys? You could bring Elio by. They’ll all love him.”
Rune’s cheeks darken, and he shrugs. “Yeah. I know they will. But, uh…well…it’s probably best if I don’t.”
As much as I want to know why he thinks that, it’s not my place to ask. Maybe if he feels safe enough later, he’ll tell one of us. But at the very least, I can be patient for now. It seems like he could use that in his life.
“If you ever need anything, you know you can call me.”
He smiles at me. “I know.”
I suck in a breath to say something else, but I don’t get the chance. Camilo appears in the doorway and narrows his eyes at me. “There are two trucks and three ambulances with shit that needs to be scrubbed. I am not paying you to sit on your ass.”
I blink at him, and even Rune looks a little startled by his tone.
After a second, Camilo’s shoulders sag. “I’m not trying to be a dick.”
He is being one, but I’m not going to judge him.
Everyone has off days, and Camilo is better at hiding them than most people.
“There’s chicken and dumplings in the fridge,” I say as I stand up and head toward him.
My shoulder clips him as I pass, and I pause, reaching for the back of his neck to give him a gentle squeeze.
“And no one’s upstairs in any of the nap bunks. ”
Camilo stares for a second, then lets out a puff of air and nods. “Thank you.”
“We have your back,” I remind him, because maybe even he needs to be told every now and again that he’s not alone in whatever he’s going through.
Camilo grabs my wrist and squeezes it as he pulls my hand from his neck. “I’m cutting your shift early. Easton told me they’re discharging his brother at five, and I know he’s staying with you.”
I don’t think Camilo understands what that means to me, but that’s okay. All that matters is I’ll be free for Leo. However he wants me.
Leo’s not ready at five.
Easton’s back at the station by four thirty, but he grabs me before I can head out. “They’re doing another scan, I think. He had a couple moments today that the nurse was worried about—some absent seizures or something. They just want to double-check, but if it’s good, he’ll be done at seven.”
I hate that, but it also means I have two extra hours to take care of shit at home. “I’m gonna run to the house and then maybe the grocery store. If you talk to Leo before I do, let him know I’ll be at the hospital before seven.”
Easton shakes his head. “Stay home.”
“What?”
“You look exhausted, man. Cam will give me time to get Leo and drive him over. I want you to go home and grab a nap.”
I want to argue. I want to be there when Leo’s released, but Easton has a point—I am tired. There aren’t words for this level of exhaustion. I haven’t slept for shit since the fire, and I’m not sure it’ll be better after he’s at my place.
It also doesn’t help that I’m still not set up for him.
I have the wheelchair Easton borrowed from one of Camilo’s friends, which is better than the clunky one at the hospital they were having him practice in, and I have done some cleaning, but I still need to refresh my bedding and make sure he’ll be comfortable with me.
I want to make it good for him, damn it.
No, I want to make it amazing so he never wants to leave.
“Thanks, man,” I say with a small smile.
Easton nods and pulls me close, knocking his forehead into mine for a second. “You have to take care of yourself too.”
I try for a smile, but by the look on his face, I fail.
And then my phone begins to ring. My stomach sinks as I reach for the door handle to my truck, and I’m not surprised to find my mom’s name on the screen. It’s like she somehow fucking knows.
“Hey. I’m a little busy right now, so—”
“You said you were off at three today,” she tells me. Her voice is rough.
“I said I was off at five, and it’s five now. I’m just getting in the truck. What’s up?” I know I sound impatient, but I don’t want to deal with her right now.
“Did you hear about Westin?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I start the truck, then take a second to breathe. “Uh, yep. I was there when she and Henry told you about the engagement.”
“That’s a shitty idea. He’s disabled.”
My stomach clenches. “Yeah, and whose fucking fault is that?”
“It wasn’t mine!” she shouts, going from zero to a hundred. Fuck, it’s going to be one of those days. “You always blame me for everything that goes wrong in your life!”
I can tell she’s not herself, and I count to ten before I answer so I don’t set her off again. “Westin’s happy, Mom, so you should try to be happy too.”
“I need a beer.”
“You fucking don’t,” I snap. She does this every now and again. She won’t actually drink the beer. She says it to get an immediate, visceral reaction out of me when she’s not getting her way. “I can’t do this right now. I’m in the middle of an emergency.”
“I’m having an emergency. It’s fine and dandy to say you give a shit about your mom until I actually need you, and you refuse to show up.”
“Where’s Meadow?”
“She’s with a friend.”
I groan. “I’m gonna call Westin or Starr and see if they’re able to help you. I have too much to do.”
“Fine. But you can be a really shitty son sometimes, you know that?”
It hurts. It shouldn’t because I know she doesn’t mean it, but those words are sharpest—the ones that cut deepest. She lashes out when she’s tired or her brain is misfiring.
But knowing the truth about why she says that shit doesn’t stop the pain.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” I hang up before she can say anything else, then take several deep breaths before calling Starr.
I don’t usually bother her with stuff like this, but I don’t want to put the burden on Westin every time, and I don’t think Meadow will bother coming home. Her connection to the family right now is a very thin thread, and I don’t want to be the one responsible for breaking it.
“Let me guess,” Starr says when she answers, “Mom’s going off about something again?”
“I can’t deal with her tonight. I have a lot going on, and I won’t have much free time for the next few days,” I tell my sister quietly.
Starr and I aren’t as close as Westin and I are. She’s only eleven months younger than West, but she’s always been quiet and reserved and doesn’t like to show emotion.
She says nothing for a long beat, then, “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” I press. Maybe I should suck it up and do this. Maybe I should—
“I’m sure. You’re always doing too much for her, and my week is pretty open,” she assures me.
“It’s not a big deal if you need me to help.” That’s a lie, but it’s one I’ve been telling them and myself for years.
Starr laughs. “Just don’t, okay? Accept reality for once.”
I don’t bother replying.
“How bad is it?” she asks in the silence.
Closing my eyes, I fight back a heavy sigh. “She’s in a mood. She called me a shitty son.”
“Fuck her,” Starr spits out.
“Hey—”
“No. I mean, she’s Mom, so I love her, but fuck her for saying that to you. She knows that’s not fair.”
My eyes go a little hot. I’m not used to people taking my side. “It’s not her fault.”
“She can’t help it now, but she got herself into this mess, and it fucking sucks that we have to sit here and watch you take her abuse because she screwed up.” Starr’s words are the angry, bitter words of a child who didn’t know the mom I once did.
She missed out on ice cream Saturdays and matinee prices at the roller-skating rink.
She missed out on going to the drive-in with a bucket of chicken and a mountain of blankets and laughing at old cartoons that played before the feature.
She missed out on the mom who knew how to smile without the weight of a shitty husband and a terrible addiction on her shoulders.
She was never perfect, but before him, in the few years when it was just me, she was better.
And no amount of rehab or therapy will bring that mom back. I just wish I could give my sisters a few of the memories I had.
“North,” she says very softly.
“Mm?”
“You know you don’t deserve that, right? And that it’s not okay when she talks to you like that?”
“Yeah.”
I know it’s not okay, but I’d rather bear the brunt of it because the fewer scars my sisters take with them into adulthood, the better. I’m already marred beyond recognition. Inside and out.
I don’t want them to know what that’s like.
“Call me if things get bad,” I tell her.
“You know I won’t. But I will call you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The line goes dead, and I’m left to stare out the window at the road ahead with a mountain-sized to-do list, but for the first time in a while, there’s a huge weight off my shoulders.