Page 28 of Priority
“Weston,” Clark chastisingly chomps again.
“No, not like that.”
“Exactly like that,” Wy rebuts.
“That’s not…” he poorly retreats, “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
“Do. Not. Tell. Me. What. I. Meant.”
“Youmeantthat you just want me to do whatyouwant whenyouwant howyouwant because onlyyourfeelings matter in this family.”
McCoygivemestrength.
Or a painkiller.
I hate how fucking familiar this sounds.
“Why is everything a goddamn fight with you?” Wes struggles not to bark courtesy of Blake still in his arms.
“Why is everything your goddamn way or not at all?”
“Because it’s my fucking family!”
“Excuse you,” I viciously interject no longer comfortable staying off the bridge. “This isourfucking family. Weallhave a say. Weallmatter.” Dropping the tacky wrapping paper over the edge of the chair encourages Board to do the same with the tape. “And if our son doesn’t feel like decking the fucking halls, we’re not gonna force him, soyoucan simply feel better, Charlie Frown.”
“Why not?” sarcastically springs from Fins. “Heforcesme to do just about everything else.”
There’s no reluctance from my husband to bite, “That’s untrue.”
“Right. Because Iwantedto go to that yacht dinner thing with the meat dude instead of the Leech Boys concert in Camelot.”
“Bennett,” Wes needlessly names.
Beach Boys covers with a death metal spin is about as fucking off putting as it sounds.
But he loves them.
Which is why Puppet Boy and Nae got him front row tickets and a meet and greet session for their upcoming show here in Highland.
They will also be taking him.
Because I’m not.
I doa lotfor my kid; however, I’m not head banging to someone screaming “Good Vibrations” at me, totally missing the fucking point of that song beside him and his best friend, Jamie Washington, who always, inexplicably smells like cheap, hot dogs.
Wy sneers at the correction prior to continuing, “And I defwantedto go that tech thing for Hayworth instead of that all you can eat taco fest with Mom and Uncle C.”
“Haworth.”
To be fair to me…Itriedto get him out of that shit.
Itriedto convince Wes to let me take him for tacos and that they could bond over futuristic tech at a later time – considering how disinterested in most tech shit our son is – yet he refused.
He believedseeing some weird Jetsons wanna be kitchen would spark an interest.
It didn’t.