Page 90 of Letting Go at 40

“I was at Mason’s.” I blow out a long breath, not feeling the need to explain myself to my eldest child. “What are you two doing home?”

I expressly asked them to stay planted somewhere, not wanting them out on a night like tonight when fools drink and drive. My head swivels from one son to the other.

“Are you drunk?” I snap at Calvin as the older one while both are still below the legal drinking age.

“Mom. I’m fine. I had two beers, but this idiot decided to do shots.” He waves a hand at his brother.

“Isnot an idiot,” Bryce mumbles.

“Why were you at Mason’s?” Calvin asks me.

Bryce grunts. The snort dismissive, suggestive even.

“What does that sound mean?” With my blood pressure rising, and Mason’s rejection still stinging, anger fills me that my seventeen-year-old is wasted and snorting at me with implication. Maybe it’s more guilt eating at me that I shouldn’t have asked Mason to have sex with me.

“Mason has a crush on you,” Bryce singsongs, like a drunken sailor.

My gaze flits to Calvin, who glares back at me. “It’s true.”

“What?” I snap, not certain if I’m asking for clarification or simply responding like a teenager myself, using the word like a defense. What?

“We aren’t talking about Mason and me. Why is your brother plastered?” I demand.

“Ryleigh has a crush on Calvin. She doesn’t like me.” Bryce’s eyes are still closed. His voice warbling as he speaks like I didn’t just ask a question.

“She does not. And it wouldn’t matter. She’s in high school,” Calvin retorts as if he’s so worldly and wise only six months out from high school himself.

“Does smatter,” Bryce slurs. “She wants you.” He whines the last word.

“This is stupid,” Calvin huffs. “Dude, just chill.”

“I’m chillin’. I’m a chill pill. I’m a little white dot melting on my tongue.”

My head swivels to Calvin. “Is he implying he’s on drugs?”

Calvin shakes his head. “He’s not. He’s just . . . yeah, he’s wasted.”

“Wasted all my love on you,” Bryce sings, off key and rivaling Captain Jack Sparrow after a bottle of rum. “Unrequited love is the worst.” He folds his arm, tucking his head into the crease, face down on the countertop like he’s going to sleep hunched over the island.

“It’s always the brother or the best friend,” Bryce states, his voice almost clear before he’s quiet again.

“What is he talking about?” I ask Calvin.

Calvin only shakes his head again and sighs. “It’s nothing, Mom. Honestly. He likes this girl, Ryleigh. I was talking to her at the party. I’m not interested, though. I love Keli.”

Oh God. I can’t handle my boys falling in love.

“Mason loves Mom,” Bryce mumbles into his arm.

“I think we should get him to bed,” I state, hoping to ward off any more comments.

I step forward when Bryce wiggles his brows and suggestively says, “Think Mason took Mom to bed.” My limbs and breath freeze momentarily. It doesn’t last long, though.

“Bryce Matthew!” I snap, not liking the insinuation in his tone that Mason and I have had sex. Then again, I’m the one stinging from not having sex with Mason. Which my late-teenaged sons do not need to know.

“Uh-oh. She used both names. Am I in trouble?” Bryce lifts his head like it weighs more than his body. His eyes are still closed.

He has no idea the trouble he’s in but the powerful hangover he’s going to have tomorrow will serve as his punishment.