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“Dude.”
“Like we cover all that territory.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Text me if Mom needs anything.”
“Why? You’re horrible with your phone.”
“Fine. Text Wes.”
“Do not text me,” my boyfriend calls out from the other side of the store.
Puppet Boy’s laughter is followed by the call ending and me tucking the device in the back pocket of my ripped, faded jeans.
It’s weird being this far away from my mom for something other than work.
Ever since the announcement about someone trying to harm her, I’ve been in fucking tiger shark mode.
Aggressive.
Territorial.
Leery of anyone and everyone who wasn’t cleared that day as innocent.
Hell, Cassandra – Head of Laundry Services – was whispering on the phone yesterday outside the medical housing right as I was leaving to get ready for work, and I lost my shit.
Demanded to know who she was talking to and why.
Turns out, she was just trying to make sure the surprise chef jacket she ordered for Lucky had been properly embroidered with the Wilcox logo.
I didn’t exactly feel embarrassed – I mean why would I when my mom’s life is clearly in danger – but I didn’t feel good about it.
And it led to a very less than pleasant conversation from Wes about giving the woman we both treasure a little more space.
Giving us a little more time together besides that of when she’s asleep – or pretending to be.
Which is why I didn’t try to cancel our special anniversary outing I knew he had planned.
Because it is our little anniversary.
And Wes did plan this incredible after–hours visit to The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute – one of the top five aquariums in the entire country – that includes spending the night in one of the watch rooms.
We really do need time alone outside of sex, although I am not complaining about having that constantly.
We just also need uninterrupted, quality, clothes on time.
And he’s been making this noticeable effort to leave the estate to be with me – always in his full gear – so I need to make sure he knows it’s appreciated by not insisting we stay there simply because I’m uncertain of who I can trust.
Thankfully, I trust Puppet Boy and know that he won’t let whoever his dick gets into tonight risk the safety of my mom.
I’ll cut it off if it does.
I know where Lucky keeps his extra special, extra sharp Chef’s Knife.
Carefully grabbing the seahorse keychain is followed by turning to face Wes. “Does Puppet Boy strike you as more of a penguin dude-”
“Don’t say dude.”
