Game (Gentry Boys, #3)(51)

Cord rolled off me. He sat in the dirt and ran a hand through his hair before looking off into the distance. “She ran out of school early,” he said in a pained voice.

Now I remembered. “Saylor.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sarcastic sneer. “Saylor. Why the hell did you have to go tell everyone, Chase?”

I picked up a desiccated prickly pear leaf and threw it at him. “Hey, you’re the one who f*cked her, remember?”

“And I wish I hadn’t,” he said quietly. “She ain’t that type. What we did was f*cked up.”

I rolled over and got to my knees. My jaw was starting to hurt and my ribs felt a bit bruised. I’d been punched before, in more ways and in more places than I cared to recall. But it hurt more coming from Cord.

Creedence got down on the ground between us. He wasn’t used to being the peacemaker and I could tell he didn’t like doing it. “Cut the shit, both of you,” he said tersely. “We’ve never let any goddamn * come between us before and we’re not starting now.” He looked at each of us carefully. “Chase, what you did sucked. Cord, you don’t give a shit about that girl anyway or you wouldn’t have f*cked her and laughed about it. There. That’s the truth. Now you guys need to f*cking hug or something.”

Cord and I glanced at each other and cracked up with laughter, partly because it was such a rarity to hear Creed say so much at once and partly because it was amusing as shit listening to him ordering us to hug.

“I’m not hugging you, freak,” Cord told me, but he did offer me a hand up out of the dirt.

The three of us hung around just shooting the shit until it started to get dark. My stomach was growling. “What are we gonna do about dinner?” It was a running question. It had been for sixteen years.

I could see Cord’s grin in the dusk. “I bet Mom’s making a casserole.”

Creed scratched his head. “I’m not even sure what the hell a casserole is.”

I answered him. “It’s something only people on television eat.”

We headed for home in a tight pack, joking and shoving each other. When we were about a hundred yards out we came to a collective stop, like animals that had sensed the presence of a predator. We stared at the dilapidated monstrosity before us. It was the only home we’d ever known.

“He in there?” I asked. The question didn’t bring quite as much stomach-flipping terror as it once did. Now that we were older and stronger our father had learned it was unwise to f*ck with us. That didn’t mean we were ever in the mood to see him though.

“I don’t think so,” Cord said, frowning. He started walking toward the double-wide first. Creed and I followed.

The place stunk to high heaven. There was a stack of mismatched dishes in the filthy sink. The rancid food clinging to them had already brought in more than a few flies. Cord cursed and carefully took them out of the sink. Then he began filling the sink with water so he could wash them. Creed picked up a bottle of tequila from the kitchen table. I knew it hadn’t been there that morning. Benton was either passed out in his closet of a room or he had wondered off in a drunken daze to find someone to hurt. Creed took a drink from the bottle and tried to pass it to me but I shook my head. I headed for the tiny bedroom the three of us shared. There wasn’t much in there. Three ancient mattresses on the floor and an old dresser that we shared. I sank into my bed and wished I was somewhere else, anywhere else.

“Someday,” I whispered, looking at the other two mattresses in the room and making a silent promise to my brothers. Someday we were leaving all this shit behind.

Then I heard a soft moan coming from the other bedroom. Creed was helping Cord clean up the kitchen. They didn’t hear it. I got up and went across the hall. I was nervous as I pushed the door gently open. If Benton was in there he would belt me first and ask questions later. My father wasn’t around though. My mother was alone.

I saw the dirty piece of rubber still tied around her arm and knew she was deep under the spell of whatever she’d shot into her veins. Her greasy hair lay in clumps over her face and her raggedy dress didn’t cover the bruises on her legs. If I could believe pictures then I could believe my mother had once been beautiful. But the way I remembered her was like this; ruined. Her eyelids fluttered and I knelt at her side. I put my finger against her neck, feeling her slow, erratic pulse.

“Mom?” I whispered, wanting her to shake it off and be a mother, wanting her to stumble down the hall and sit with us for a little while, wanting her to just f*cking see me.

Her blue eyes focused on my face and a look of bleak sadness filled them. “Loved you,” she moaned before covering her head with the filthy blankets. “I swear I did, Benton.”

I was shaken to the core. I could barely stand up but I needed to get the hell out of there before she called me by my father’s name again. I couldn’t handle that.

My brothers shouted to me as I ran out the front door. I ran like the blazes for about a quarter of a mile and then stopped. I looked up at the sky and panted. After all, where the hell did I think I was going?

The boys caught up to me. The second I felt the heat of their bodies I felt better. It had always been that way. I wondered what would have happened if we’d been separated at birth and wandered the years alone. Would I have always felt like there were large pieces of myself missing? Would they?