Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(9)

He’d lasted nearly two more years before he split.

“We need to talk,” she told him, coming into the reception area.

“All right,” Layne agreed, having learned it was better to let her say what she had to say and move on than try to fight it. She wasn’t only a bitch, she could get mean and the mean could turn nasty. His day started with Rocky and would end with a dinner she’d cooked that he’d have to eat with her and his kids there. He didn’t need Gabby to turn nasty.

She stared at him a second, then looked beyond him into his office. Her face turned hard when she realized he wasn’t going to ask her to come in, take a seat, offer a cup of coffee.

“I need you to take the boys next week,” she announced.

Layne sighed.

The reason he was home was because she’d hooked up with Stew Baranski. When Tripp told him that, Layne’s blood ran cold. Stew Baranski was a total ass**le. He’d always been an ass**le. Fuck, the guy could teach classes on how to be a total and complete ass**le. He didn’t want that guy around his kids but when he’d called and shared this with Gabby she’d lost her f**king mind. Then she’d ranted about how she’d taken care of his kids for twelve years and now that she had something good in her life (that was a joke, Stew being anything good was a freaking joke), he was trying to screw it up for her. She continued to rant about how she gave everything up for her boys while he did whatever the f**k he wanted.

He had to admit, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

But it was clear she was passed bitter straight to hostile and it was also clear she wasn’t giving up Stew. She’d dated, he knew this, but she hadn’t had a long term relationship in awhile. She’d let herself go after Tripp, in a huge way, and no longer bore any resemblance to the attractive, built woman she was in her twenties. She was hanging onto Stew, a last ditch effort to end a lonely life of single parenthood.

It was either let Stew Baranski turn his sons into ass**les, or be an ass**le to them, or both, or come home.

He came home.

And since he did, he often doubled up his weeks so Stew and Gabby could do whatever Stew and Gabby did that they needed his sons clear of it. Layne didn’t want to know, he also didn’t argue. She was right. She’d borne the brunt of raising his kids. It was his turn to kick in.

“Fine,” he replied. “You need to come into the office to tell me that?”

“Nope,” she shook her head once. “Needed to come in to tell you I need five hundred dollars.”

Layne did a slow blink. “Come again?”

“Need five hundred dollars,” she repeated.

“Gabby, this may have escaped you but circumstances are changed. I got joint custody and your support was reduced because of it. You get what you get and that’s all you get.”

He watched her straighten her shoulders. “I need five hundred dollars, Tanner.”

“Is this something for the boys?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“What?”

She looked over his shoulder. The bitch was lying.

“What?” he repeated.

Her eyes came back to his. “Jasper and Tripp need stuff for school.”

“What do they need?”

“Stuff,” she answered. “Clothes and shit.”

They did not need clothes and shit. He knew this because he handed them both wads of cash about two days after he got out of the hospital so they could go back to school shopping. Both his boys were kitted out with trendy gear like rock stars.

“I think they’re covered,” Layne replied.

“Yeah, with stuff they keep at your house. They don’t have as much at my place.”

“Well, since they’re at my house most of the time, that works, don’t you think?”

Her face started to get red, not with embarrassment, with anger. “Oh, I get it. Dad’s the cool one, gets his son a hot rod, fills their closet with designer clothes. They go to Mom’s and they’ve got shit.”

“It isn’t like they don’t have bags. They want their stuff, they can take it with them to your place.”

“You want them to go back and forth like vagabonds?”

Layne sucked in breath and sought patience.

Then he reminded her, “Stew’s livin’ with you, Gabby, your expenses are lowered and you still get money from me. You wanna get them clothes, get ‘em.”

“I work at Kroger, Tanner. I’m not a shit hot PI who charges a hundred and fifty dollars an hour plus expenses.”

“You’ve worked at Kroger for fifteen years, Gabby, you’re a manager and you had to disclose your income the last time you took me to court. You are far from hurting.”

This was true, except the part about him learning this when she’d had to disclose it the last time she took him to court. He’d checked up on her regularly, he’d known for years exactly what she was paid, what she spent her money on and what she spent his money on.

“Jesus, why do you make me jump through hoops like this when it’s for our boys?” she snapped, her voice rising.

That pissed him off.

“I have never, not once, Gabrielle, made you jump through hoops when it’s for our boys. Not… f*cking… once and you f**king know it.”