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I stop, lean against the wall of a random building and close my eyes. Fuck, this is killing me. “Mom.”
“Oh God, it is you. Missed you, baby.” Her voice cracks, and it only pisses me off more.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I can’t help a snort of disgust. “What the fuck?”
“Why, Seth?” Goddammit, she sounds confused. I wonder if she’s acting for John Adams, or any other corrections officer there. “What happened to you?”
That startles a bark of laughter out of me. It’s raw and bitter and it burns my throat.
“What happened to me? Jesus, you’ve got balls to ask me that after you and you asshole of a husband set us up to take the fall for you, while you ran away with the cash you made. Did you stop to think what it would fucking do to me? To Shane?”
“Shane? Why to Shane?”
Jesus. I press my thumb between my eyes, to relieve the pressure. “Like you don’t know. Shane came to find me, tried to help me. Remember how you left me, with my knee blown, my leg broken, my arm smashed?” Remembered pain shudders through me. “He got arrested, too, taken in as accessory when the narcs rolled in. Less time than I got, but it was enough.”
“Enough for what?” Her fake sadness and confusion has bled away into pure curiosity.
“What do you think, mom? You’ve been in prison, too. Don’t you know what happens to pretty, young, exotic boys like Shane?”
She makes a strange sound, maybe a sob, maybe a laugh.
I don’t care.
“He’s prettier than I am. Or was. You should see him now, all bulked up.” A knot in my throat forces me to stop and swallow hard. “He’s stronger on the outside, but inside…”
God help me, I’ll reach across the line and kill her for putting him through that hell.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers. “Oh God, not Shane. Never wanted this to happen.”
“What about me? Don’t you care for what happened to me?”
“Oh, you were always strong, Seth. I knew you’d make it.”
“Screw you.” A crack inside my chest tears wide open. “I know he was always your favorite.” More than me, her own son. “He reminds you of my father, doesn’t he? You were in love, and Shane looks just like him.”
She says nothing.
Fuck. Why did I think this was a good idea? There is my answer. She didn’t even ask how I fared in prison. Doesn’t care.
“Do you feel guilty at all?” The need to know is overwhelming. “Any remorse for what you did to us? For the fucking unfairness of it?”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.
Enough of this bullshit. “Goodbye, Mom.”
“Seth…”
I wait, chewing on my rage, on my bone-deep sadness. “What?”
“It’s not that Shane reminds me of your father. It’s that you remind me of myself. And that hurts.”
I disconnect the call and slide down the wall until my ass hits the concrete sidewalk. Fucking awesome.
Hell if that didn’t break me up all over again.
Chapter Eighteen
Manon
