I laughed. “No, ma, I forgot those. Let me just—” I pretended to turn toward the stairs.
My dad didn’t find my reply as funny. “Don’t be a smartass with your mom in this state, son.”
I exhaled, long and slow. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Nervous?” my mom asked, watching my hands flex at my sides.
“Yeah. A little. But excited all the same.”
“Call us when you get there. Or emails. Those work, too.” She acted as if cell phones weren’t widely used by now. By most, at least. Lyra still didn’t have one. I’d have to fix that soon.
“We’ll be a little over an hour away. We can come see you next weekend after we find a place. I’ll need to grab furniture from my room anyway, and she might want to do the same.”
“Oh, my boy. Growing up so fast. Making such big moves.” My mother swept another tear away from her cheek.
“Thank you. For supporting me. Always.”
My dad’s brows scrunched together. “Course, son. You’re a man, now. Capable of making your own choices in life.” He sniffled a bit. “I’d like to think you learned what every parent can only hope for—how to be a good person.”
“Oh! I almost forgot.” My mother bolted from the room. When she returned, she was carrying an envelope.
She pushed it into my chest without warning.
“What—”
“It’s not much, but with your savings and whatever she has, it will get you guys somewhere with a little more room.”
My dad’s brows shot up. “Does your mother know somethin’ I don’t?”
“We’re not havin’ a kid, dad.” I faced my mother, taking her in as if I wouldn’t see her in a week. “Thank you for this. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Both of you.”
“Why does he need more room?” My dad asked, directing the question at my mother. Clearly, my answer hadn't been enough. “We’re too young for grandkids.”
“Oh, stop it. More room, more furniture, whatever he needs. Don’t act like you didn’t know I went to the ATM a few days ago for this.”
My dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make me a grandfather yet, for the love of the Lord and all that is holy, Carver.”
I laughed, wrapping my arms around them both. “Thank you,” I repeated.
We talked for a few more minutes, my mother asking me if I’d forgotten nearly a dozen other essential items before my dad gave her a pointed look. He helped me load up the truck he let me borrow for the trip, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Lyra’s.
Only, when I got there, her new car wasn’t there.
I got out of the truck and made my way to the front door. As my booted foot landed on the porch, the front door swung open, and out stumbled a man so drunk, I wasn’t sure he was fully awake.
His swaying body finally settled against the railing, his head cocking loosely. “And who the fuck’re you?”
I glanced between the open door and the man who probably had no clue his belt and jeans were undone. “Carver Roland, sir.” Assuming this was the man she lived with, I shot my hand between us. “Nice to meet you.” He glared at my hand before I gave up and fit it into my pocket. “I’m here for Lyra.”
“Too late for that. Bitch ran off.”
My jaw worked. “What did you just call her?”
“Bitch. Saidthat bitchran—”
I didn’t give two fucks who he was to her. I raised my fist and sent it flying into his nose.
The guy stumbled back, wiping a bead of blood away. “Git the hell off my property ‘fore I call the cops.”
