Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
She answered his question, but her voice was low and mumbled, like she didn’t have any interest in what he was saying if it would not upset me.
It took only a glance to see what she needed. I pulled up the grocery delivery app on my phone and clicked off a lot of the usual suspects from previous orders. This was one of the few times my mom’s limited menu worked to my benefit. She didn’t like most things and refused to do more than simply boil water.
“Mom, why’s it so hot in here? Something wrong with the air conditioning?” I shouted as I submitted the order and started checking her usual hiding spots for alcohol.
“It’s busted. Been broken for three days. You left me here to cook in this fucking oven,” she complained.
I clenched my teeth as I poured out the two half-empty bottles I’d found in the trash. That was pretty sneaky for her, thinking I wouldn’t check the trash as a hiding spot. I would have fixed the AC if she’d told me there was a problem. Surprise, surprise! I wasn’t a mind reader.
The linoleum creaked behind me, and I turned to find Sebastian standing in the middle of the kitchen.
“Where’s the thermostat? I can look at it,” he offered.
I pointed at the hall off the kitchen. “On the right. Down the corridor.”
I was closing up the trash bag to take it out when I heard the air kick on. Sebastian returned a second later, wearing a smirk.
“The temperature was set at eighty-five. I lowered it to seventy-five,” he whispered.
“Perfect.” I exhaled. There was no telling why she’d jacked up the temperature. I was grateful I didn’t have to pay for a repairman to come out to fix it. “Let me throw in a load of wash for her and we’ll get out of here.”
Sebastian winked at me as he turned toward the living room. “Take your time. I’m fine.”
After dealing with the trash, I darted into Mom’s bedroom and gathered up the clothes scattered about. I was taking them to the washing machine as she began her shit, ignoring all Sebastian’s attempts at polite conversation.
“You should stay away from him or he could infect you too,” she admonished.
“Homosexuality isn’t a disease.” Sebastian’s voice was low but firm. My hand tightened on the detergent bottle for a moment, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I was always proud of Sebastian for taking a stand for what was right, but there were some people it was pointless to argue with. They heard nothing and couldn’t be reasoned with. My mom was one of those people.
I rushed through, adding the soap, no longer caring if it was the right amount. It was time to get the fuck out of there.
“It is. Those people are sick. Tainted by the devil. You need to stay away from him before he taints you, too.”
“Mrs. Graham, I’m gay too.”
Fuck.
There was a loud gasp, and then the shouting began.
“Byron! You brought one of them into my home! Out! Both of you get out of my house. I’m calling the police. Get them to arrest you both!”
“I plan to marry your son and spend the rest of my life taking excellent care of him. He’ll never have to deal with your hatred if he doesn’t want to,” Sebastian stated in a booming voice above her screeching.
I tripped over my feet at his words, barely catching myself. Part of me argued that he only said that to get back at my mother. Yet there was such a fire of determination blazing in his eyes as he glared at her. I knew he believed every word he spoke.
But there was no way I was going to hold him to such a promise. My mom had a way of getting under a person’s skin and driving them to do and say things they would regret later.
“Get out!” she screamed, her voice growing shriller to the point of cracking.
I reached Sebastian and shoved him to the door. “Food will be delivered in an hour. I started a load of laundry in the washer and the air conditioner is now working,” I informed her, not caring if she was paying attention. “I’ll return in a few days to check on you.”
“Don’t come back! You’re not welcome here. You’re not my son. Ronnie’s my only son!”
It was not the first time she’d told me to stay away or even the first time she’d disowned me. And without a doubt, it wouldn’t be the last time.
17
SEBASTIAN COURTLAND
As soon as we stepped outside and escaped her screams, I glanced at Byron. His entire body looked sunken in, his head hung and shoulders slumped as if he were trying to curl into a protective ball while remaining mobile.
Did he have to deal with this every time he went to see her? He bought her food, cleaned her house, ran himself ragged to make sure she was okay, and she still treated him like shit.