Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(26)

"Do you now?" Mom says, her voice dripping with venom.

"Nah, I have to cook for myself. I tried making pancakes once and it turned into a big lump and got all crusty."

"How awful."

"I get the point," I mutter. "Any left?"

"No, I cooked all the batter."

She rises, undoing her apron. "When she's done, drive her home, will you?"

Before I can answer, she strides out of the room and heads up to her office. I sigh.

"What?" Charity mumbles through her food.

"Nothing, just finish eating."

She takes her time and drinks about a half a gallon of milk with it, and cranberry juice. Apparently my mother recommends it as a hangover cure.

When she's finally finished, we head out to the car.

"What's going on?" she says, as I start it up and sigh.

"You remember Apollo?"

"Who?"

"The guy that carried you out of the party last night."

"What party?"

I smack my forehead on the steering wheel and sigh, and it turns into something between a laugh and a sob.

"It's a long story."

I lay it out for her as briefly as possible as we make the drive back to town. Charity nods attentively the whole time.

"Yeah, that's weird. I mean, is there a protocol for that at all? Daughter dating mom's boyfriend’s son?"

"A protocol?"

"You know. A procedure."

"Charity, for God's sake."

She shrugs. "What do you want me to say? You're probably not going to see this guy again. His father is probably on his ass to keep him away from you. Isn't he older than us anyway?"

"By two years. What's the big deal?"

"I don't know. Shouldn't he be in college?"

"I don't know."

"What do you know? Do you know anything about this guy you started a bitter argument with your mother about?"

I sigh. "I… no. That's not the point. It's not him. Not just him. She wants to control every little part of my life. She's always telling me what to do, demanding reports on where I go, trying to pick my friends, trying to push Lucas on me."

"Have you ever told her about Lucas?"

"She doesn't believe me."

Charity sighs.

"You know, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but…"

"What?"

"I wish I had a mom like yours. My mother doesn't make me pancakes. She doesn't make me anything. She's either drunk or she's never home. I can't remember eating dinner with her after my Dad died."

I bite my lip. I don't know what to say to that. We pull up to Charity's house, and her uncle comes charging out.

"Young lady, where have you been?"

I step out and tell him the story before Charity gets a chance.

"What have I told you about going to parties like that? You don't even like that Lucas boy, and you were at his house?"

"Everybody goes to Lucas' house," she sighs.

"Do I smell marijuana?"

"No," we both blurt at once.

Don't look at her. Don't look at her. Damn it, she looked at me.

Her uncle sighs. "In the house, young lady. Now."

Charity meekly rushes inside, leaving me to face down her kin.

"Thank you," he sighs, catching me off guard. "She should know better. Sometimes I feel like I need to watch her every minute, but I can't. She's got to grow up sometime. All I can do is make sure she gets there and try to instill some wisdom in her. It's plainly working," he grunts, in a wry tone. "Sounds like you really saved her bacon. Thank you, Diana."

"Yeah. Anytime. I have to go."

"See you around, I hope. I don't know what she's going to do when you're gone."

As he turns and heads back up to the house, I head back to the car, drop into the driver's seat and lean on the steering wheel to catch my breath. Every time I breathe it feels like I'm sucking hot coals into my lungs, and my eyes burn. I sit back and think of what I'm going to say when I get home. I need some air.

I park on Main Street and get out, and walk. It's completely dead on Sunday. The town has Blue Laws, meaning nothing can be open except the pharmacy and gas station, so all the stores are dark. A hot breeze blows, and I feel like I'm walking through some desolated town in a cheesy post-apocalyptic movie. I certainly feel as bereft. I walk down the street to the bookstore, stop in my tracks, and blink a few times.

Part of me expected to see Apollo sitting on the bench out front, staring into the store. I should go, really. I should turn around and leave, not antagonize my mother anymore. If I talk to him she'll hear about it. Instead, I walk over and sit down next to him, staring straight ahead as he is. He's drinking something from a big bottle in a paper back. He burps, and I smell the acid sting of alcohol on his breath.

"You'd better be careful," he says in a slight slur to his voice, "I think I've been drinking."

"What are you doing?"

"This is the only place I know of to try and run into you. Why aren't they open?"

"It's Sunday?"