Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(11)

That sounded familiar. “And?”

“She reeked of alcohol,” he added gently, watching me intently from behind thick lashes.

Which was another common occurrence. “And?”

“And she smelled like she’d been in a sealed-off room, smoking pot and cigarettes for several hours.”

Well, the pot was something new. Mom used to be into pills, lots of pills—a smorgasbord of pills.

“And that wasn’t too uncommon, either, in the last year or so,” Jax said, still watching me, and I now learned he’d been around for some time. “So no one really paid her much attention. You see, your mom kind of . . .”

“Did nothing while she was here?” I supplied when his jaw tensed. “Yeah, that’s nothing new, either.”

Jax held my gaze for a moment, and then his chest rose with a deep breath. “She left that night around eight or so, and we haven’t heard from her since. Like Clyde said, that was about two weeks ago.”

Oh my God.

I plopped down on the bar stool.

“I didn’t call you, baby girl, because . . . well, this isn’t the first time your mom has just up and disappeared.” Clyde propped his hip against the bar as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Every couple of months, she hits the road with Rooster and—”

“Rooster?” My brows flew up. Did Mom have a pet rooster? As bizarre as that would be, it wouldn’t surprise me. She’d grown up on a farm, and when I was little, she had a thing for oddball pets. We had a goat once named Billy.

Clyde winced. “He’s your mom’s . . . um, he’s your mom’s man.”

“His name is Rooster?” Oh dear lawd.

“That’s what he goes by,” Jax said, drawing my gaze again.

God, this was humiliating in so many ways. Mom was a drunk stoner who abused pills, never did anything with the bar she owned, and had run off with some dude, who was no doubt really classy, and went by the name Rooster.

Ugh.

Next, I was going to find out she was working part-time across the street at the strip club. I needed to find a comfy dark corner to rock in.

“A few months back, she was gone for about a month before she popped back up,” Clyde said. “So, it’s really nothing to worry about. Your mom, well, she’s out there, and she’ll be back. She always comes back.”

I closed my eyes. She didn’t need to be out there. She needed to be here, where I could talk to her, where I could find out if she had any of the money left that she shouldn’t have, and where I could scream and rage at her, and do something about the fact my entire life had spun out of control because of her.

Clyde squeezed my shoulder. “I can give you a call when she gets back.”

That surprised me enough that my eyes popped open just in time to see Jax exchange a hard and long look with Clyde.

“You don’t need to hang around here, baby girl. I think it’s great that you’ve come by to visit, and I’m sure she’ll be—”

“You want me to leave?” My eyes narrowed as my ears perked. Oh, there were most definitely more shenanigans than I was aware of.

“No,” Clyde assured quickly.

And at the same time Jax said, “Yes.”

I stared at him, skin prickling. “Uh, I don’t think you have a say in this, bartender guy.”

Those brown eyes seemed to turn black as coldness crept into him. A muscle popped in his jaw as I held his stare, daring him to disagree. When he didn’t say anything, I turned back to Clyde, who was watching Jax. Something was going on, and with my mom, anything was possible. But I wasn’t leaving—I couldn’t leave because I had nowhere to go. Literally. Unlike the last couple of semesters, I wasn’t taking summer courses, because this year I couldn’t afford it. Which meant I also couldn’t stay in the dorms, so when I packed up to come here, I had to seriously pack up everything. The small amount of funds I did have in my personal account had to get me through until I found Mom or got another job. Either way, I couldn’t afford an apartment or a hotel, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to intrude on Teresa for a place to stay until things got sorted out.

My gaze flickered over the worn-out bar, dancing over the old street signs and black-and-white photos framed on the wall, and, for some reason, I didn’t see it before. Probably because I was too busy focusing on the eye candy that was in front of me, but I saw it now.

Behind the bar, under the red sign that had Mona’s name in elegant cursive, was a framed photo.

Air lodged in my throat.

It was a photo, bright and colorful, of a family—a real family. Two smiling parents, attractive and happy. The mother held a baby boy, no older than one year and three months. Another little boy in a blue sweater, aged ten years and five months, stood next to a little girl, who had just turned eight, and she was dressed in a poofy blue princess-style dress, and she was beautiful, like a little doll, beaming at the camera.

My stomach roiled.

I had to get out of here.

Sliding off the stool, I grabbed my purse off the top of the bar. “I’ll be back.”

Jax frowned as he watched me back up, but he also . . . he looked relieved. The muscle had stopped spasming in his jaw, his shoulders had relaxed, and it was obvious he was happy to see me go whereas a handful of minutes earlier he was trying to get me to share drinks with him.