I glared, my irritation ratcheting up to an umpteenth degree at her condescension. “What’s done is done, Mom. I’m working on backtracking where the file changes came from, but we’re probably better off keeping the changes and analyzing the files as I unlock them. That way we can see what the hell this person wants.”
“Okay,” she started, clasping her hands together. “So, while your brother is under fire for a possible data integrity leak, you want to play internet spy to fix something that’s not supposed to be broken in the first place? I don’t remember raising you to be so irresponsible, Connor.”
I almost lost it right there. She always pulled this shit. The“I don’t remember raising you this way”card. The poor her card. Like it was her who had to deal with her wants and needs being ridiculed and cast aside for something more favorable all the time. Like it washerthat felt like they were hovering just on the outskirts of their family, because they simply wanted a different path. All for just wanting to be who she is.
It was all bullshit, and I was getting sick and tired of being made to feel bad for her unchanging, unwarranted judgment of me and my interests. I was getting sick of even trying.
Ceci was so right. I should just tell them all to fuck off. To figure it out on their own. I had tried to tell them the right way to do things. I tried and tried, but I was still being treated like an invalid child and maybe I should finally start acting like one.
Clint was stepping in before I got any Ceci Fernandez-like notions, though. Having been in the same room with me, he stood and came to my side. A large hand laying over my shoulder before I even knew I was rising. He pushed down with force but only addressed the large projecting screen that showcased our mother.
“Mom,” Clint said. “You raised us to think critically when it comes to business, not emotionally. If there’s blame, it’s with all of us.”
“You can’t always bail your brothers out—”
“I'm not, Mom. I'm just saying, right now until we know what they want, we have more pressing issues than whose fault it is. We’ll see if we can find the original files. Connor will try to trace it back to a source. You and Papa try to remember if there’s anyone you know who could or would do something like this, and why.”
“What should I do?” Clay asked from beside us, sounding eager and ready. I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes at him, the fucking idiot. He had been humming spy tunes and making stupid comments since this all started. He was having too much fun with all of this.
Clint pursed his lips, noticing this ridiculousness too, but apparently pulling his punches today. “Clay you…sit tight.”
The eager look on Clay’s face disappeared as fast as it surfaced as he sat back in his chair mumbling, “Man, I never get to do anything fun.”
So here we were. Still no idea who’s been hacking into the files and continuing on our plan to find all the paper copies, if there were even still any to find. We’d been at it for days, coming into this conference room with stacks of files to sort and not leaving until we physically couldn’t go any longer. It was clear we were all reaching our limit.
Against my thigh, I felt my phone begin to vibrate, buzzing a stiffness through me along with it. I should be happy for any distraction from the hell of having tohand sortfiles, (I mean, that is why computers were invented), but I found myself stiffening at any call lately. Afraid that it was my mother calling to chew me out yet again.
I’m not sure I felt much better about the name that actually flashed across the screen. Ceci, or more accurately the little blueberry emoji she’d changed her name to when she had my phone last had been contacting me less lately. So I was a little taken off guard by her sudden call so late in the night, conflicting emotions rushed me at the sight of it.
It was late, well past eleven at night, and she was usually more of a texter. For the last couple of weeks she’d been acting sort of weird. Ducking and dodging around certain subjects. Refusing to stay over even when it was really late. Even knocking on the door, when she had a key. She’d stopped asking me to meet her for lunch and started questioning if I was free. Before recently she wouldn’t even bother asking, she’d just show up and join in on whatever I was doing whether I was free or not.
It felt like she was putting up some sort of boundary between us. Pulling away from me for some reason, and after almost two years of having no such boundaries, it felt like a rejection in a way.
After the constant rejection from my mother, I guess I was taking it a little more personally than usual right now.
Still, I wanted to talk to her about it. I knew she was going through a hard time, but I wanted to make it clear to her that she didn’t have to go through it alone. I understood that she was going through something, but what had I done to make her believe that I couldn’t go through it with her? Help her through it. I had been there for her all the other times, hadn’t I?
I still wanted to be there for her now. Lord knew she was always there for me.
Only, this thing with my brother had taken up much more of my time than I expected and I didn’t want to talk to her about it over the phone. I also couldn’t just leave in the middle of my family responsibilities, either.
So I let the phone ring, promising myself I would call her back later. But just a couple minutes after the call went to voicemail, guilt had me sending her a text.
Me:You okay?
Her response was immediate. A dropped pin of her location.Weird. Opening it up I saw that she was at her job. I guess she was working late hours tonight. Or maybe she finally wanted to show me where she worked? Whatever. I’d call her back after Clint finally let us go home.
But before I could settle back into thumbing through the stack of documents in front of me, my phone rang again, buzzing face down on the table this time. I picked it up not expecting it to be Ceci twice in a row. But there it was, her name showing up on my screen with the little blue emojis again.
I frowned. That wasn’t like her. If I was busy, she had no problem texting me nonstop until I returned her phone call, but she never called back to back.
Hair prickled on the back of my neck, and the room seemed to expand in size, keeping me in the center and pushing my brothers away to the far corners of my awareness. Worry twisted my gut but as soon as I moved my hand to accept the call, Clint was talking.
“Did you find anything?”
“Uh,” I frowned down at the phone and then tucked it away. I would call her backrightafter this. “Uh, no. Still looking. Have you?”
“No,” he frowned at his stack. “I know it seems crazy, making you do this, I just have this feeling that—”
