“You. Hit. Me.” Shock freezes me in place as I hold a palm to my cheek, both sides of my face now smarting as I gape at her.
Another chip to my armor.
No, not a chip.
An irreparable crack.
“I am not a prostitute,” she hisses.
“I didn’t mean—”
The door slams in front of my face, and I stare blankly at it.
I wish I could call Jax. He’s come to my rescue before, and he always knows what to do.
I wish I could go back to last night and lose myself in Alek’s touch again.
I wish I were anywhere but here.
“I could drive you to the hospital,” I murmur. It’s Sunday and instead of resting up so I can be energized for my second week at my new job, I’m lingering in the doorway as Evelyn retches over the toilet bowl.
Withdrawals.
“Kevin was going to help me out until you ran him off yesterday,” she says over her shoulder, sending me a dark, accusatory glare.
My temples pound with a dull, throbbing headache. Ever since yesterday’s fiasco, I’ve been a ball of nerves. My shoulders are knotted with tension, and the worry over what Evelyn would do if she got desperate enough for her next hit had me awake all night. I wish I didn’t hate the taste of coffee, because I could use a pick me up right about now.
I sigh when Evelyn turns her attention back to the toilet bowl, followed by the sound of more retching. Her small frame shivers, a light sheen of sweat coating her hairline.
“You can’t even help your own mother out,” she hisses.
I flinch. “I told you I would take you to the doctor, or get you some nausea meds, or—”
“That isn’t going to help me!” She groans before wiping a palm along her forehead.
Frustration wells up inside me just as my cell phone begins ringing. Exhaling a long breath, I pull it out of my pocket. When Caleb’s name flashes across the screen, I hit the reject button. I’m not in the mood to shoot the shit right now.
“After everything I’ve done for you, you won’t even do this one thing for me.” Her voice cracks as her eyes water, and my own throat constricts.
“Maybe if we talk to Jax, he could spot us some cash for rehab,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m begging.
“Jax wouldn’t understand! He was a bratty kid, and he never loved me! I thought you cared, but maybe you’re just like him! Your dad never wanted to help me either.”
The sound of a ringing cell phone bounces between the wallsagain, and the endless chirping grates on my nerves so much that the walls start to close in on me. The entire room spins around me as I jam my hand into my pocket and look at the screen.
Jax.
“Luke, baby, I’m your mother. Just give me a little money, just enough for a few pills. I feel like I’mdying.”
Stumbling out of the bathroom, I gag as bile rises up my throat. Unshed tears make my vision hazy as I blindly make my way toward my bedroom. My chest tightens when I struggle to draw in a full breath.
Doing something I swore I would never do, I reach for my wallet and pull out a handful of bills. Then I walk back to the bathroom on autopilot and toss them onto her lap. I walk out without uttering another word, closing my bedroom door behind me, even though I don’t remember walking back.
Sagging against the door, I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut when my cell phone pings, with a text message this time. For a moment, I consider throwing it across the room but think better of it. I pull it back out and stare blearily at the screen.
Jax: Hey buddy, haven’t heard from you in a few days. Everythingokay?
Allowing my head to thump against the door, I laugh. The sound is totally devoid of any real humor.
