Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
While Hacksmore’s Uber pulled up, Serena got on to Dax and Jace for turning down the opportunity.
“Mom, it’s my life, so I do get to decide how to live it,” Dax insisted.
Serena practically jumped back at the remark. “Now, Daxie Pooh, your mommy’s just trying to make sure you’re considering all your options. One day I’m hoping to be a grammy, and I want to make sure you two have money to take care of my grandbabies.”
As annoyed as Dax appeared, he couldn’t stifle his grin.
Serena had this way of bugging the fuck out of him and then saying just the right thing when she needed to. If anything, their sparring was a bit of a game—the only way she knew how to show love.
It made me think about a call I still hadn’t made, one that was long overdue.
I waited until I was back at my place, where I fell onto my back on the sofa and pressed the Call button, hoping that maybe it was too late for her to answer.
But then I heard her voice: “Hi, my baby.”
She said it in that soft, gentle way she had, the one that reminded me of her reading me The BFG when I was sick with a fever. Or consoling me when I was crying after a day of being bullied on the school bus. It was one of the many aspects that made my relationship with her so fucking frustrating.
“Hey, Mom,” I said curtly, unable to disguise the bitterness lacing my tone.
“It’s taken you a while to call me back. I guess you’ve been busy with work again.”
Surely she knew it was a bullshit excuse for not returning her call sooner. At the same time, I wondered if all the pieces of shit she’d dated had confused her…made her believe she was always the last priority for all the men in her life.
“It’s been busy, but it’s good,” I replied. “How have you been?”
I relaxed somewhat as we chatted, same as usual, discussing the superficial details of our lives.
“You got that money, right? Did you need more?” I asked, feeling like I needed to bring it up.
“Money? No. I just called to check in.” She didn’t say it defensively…or like I was totally off base for suspecting otherwise. “I do care about my son, but thank you for sending it.”
An awkward silence followed before she said, “You seeing anyone?”
God, why did she have to ask that?
“Oh, n—” I started to offer my standard reply but stopped short.
But why the fuck did I stop? Sawyer and I weren’t really anything.
Although, I did agree not to fuck around with anyone else, which definitely made us something. Yet we’d hardly chatted since our last discussion, so maybe even that was out the window.
“You are seeing someone?” I could hear the enthusiasm in her voice.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were about to say no, but you didn’t. Who is he? Is he from this new town you’ve been staying in? Oh, you aren’t far. You need to come see me and bring him with you.”
She sounded more alert than she had throughout the rest of our talk. I could imagine her all lit up and excited on my behalf, as if she were standing right in front of me. It was a moment like this that made it so easy to forget all the rest. I just remembered that voice and her sweet smile.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” I heard a familiar voice groan near her.
“It’s Carter,” she said, almost in a whisper, as though worried that her tone might upset him.
What was this one’s name? Duke or Jerry or Larry… No, it was Jon. Fucking Jon in Paducah, Kentucky. He was assistant manager at the local hardware store and had frequented the restaurant where Mom waited tables until she magically fell in love…or whatever Mom considered to be love, which happened typically months after whatever asshole was finally done with her. She’d moved into his place a few weeks after they’d started seeing each other. Typical.
“Well, hurry up and get back in the bed.” His words were severe, the sort of tone that all the men in her past seemed to have down pat.
“Larry sounds annoyed,” I commented.
“It’s Jon, baby.”
I fucking know it’s Jon. And this is why I don’t call you.
“He still having fun at Harrah’s? Getting better at blackjack?” I couldn’t hide my frustration, knowing my money was likely feeding his gambling more than his self-inflicted mortgage debt.
“Carter, don’t be this way.”
“I’m not being any way, Mom. It’s fine. I don’t want to keep either of you from your rest.”
“Promise me you’ll come visit us soon.”
“I—”
“Promise.”
I reluctantly agreed before concluding the call. When I got off the phone, tension lingered in my chest. It’d gone better than I’d expected, but I felt that same gut reaction I had when I heard her voice mail.