The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(36)

“After the new year,” he continued. “Goin’ down to Florida to work with a bud. I’ll be back for Johnny and Izzy’s wedding in the summer. Whatever you do with that,” he tapped his middle finger on the white envelope, “is your call. But for Christmas I’m givin’ Brooklyn toys, but also clothes and shit he needs because he’s growin’ like a weed and he’ll be out of his stuff in no time. And I’m warnin’ you now, I’ll be givin’ him a lot of all that. You don’t accept it, you’re not just proud, you’re stupid.”

And with that parting blow, he went on the move, strolling past me, out of the kitchen, and as I stiffly turned to watch, I saw him disappear.

But my son cried, “Dodo!”

And my dog barked.

Dapper Dan followed Toby on a trot while Brooklyn motored on his hands and knees as fast as his chubby limbs could take him.

I heard the front door close, my dog bark again, and another plaintive cry from my baby boy of, “Dodo!”

And standing in the kitchen with ten thousand dollars in an envelope and hundreds of dollars in food, beer and wine on my island, I experienced the excruciating feeling of my head exploding.



Toby

Toby was on his back on his couch, a bottle of beer resting on his stomach, his eyes trained to a game on the TV.

His mind was not on the game.

His mind was on, That’s cool. See you then!

See you then?

With an exclamation point?

From Addie?

Jesus.

Fake.

He fucking hated fake.

They have a fight. Johnny gets up in his shit. Toby knows Addie’s sister talked to her. The whole town was gabbing about it. Addie doesn’t drop him a text. And when he contacts her, he gets see you then! like that shit didn’t happen at all.

Like she was just going to ignore it. Pretend he didn’t know she was broke, not eating enough, surrounded by people who gave a shit about her and were not only willing to help, but wanted to and had the means to do it, and she was just going to blow it all off, go her own way and be fucking fake about it.

Fuck that.

Fuck it.

He knew she might, and probably would, eat the food he dropped on her.

But he figured the ten large he’d given her would be at some animal shelter or something by next weekend.

Whatever.

Fuck that too.

If the woman let pride blind her to that point, it wasn’t his gig.

That’d be on her.

And when she was eating cat food in a couple of months, she’d regret paying for enough cat food for the cats in a shelter to eat for a year.

It was not his business.

And he was actively denying the fact that knowing she’d pull shit that fantastically stupid was driving him out of his mind, and he wanted to get off his back, in his truck, go to her house and shake some sense into her (or better, spank some into her).

This was why he had no idea what was happening with the game on the TV.

And this was messing with his head so badly, it was why his body jerked in surprise when his doorbell rang.

His body tensed when it didn’t stop ringing.

He lifted up and looked over the back of the couch to the door, which was windows separated by a diamond panel of wood in the middle, lines formed of wood coming out from the points. So he could clearly see Addie standing there, head bowed, pushing on his doorbell, her face set firm to ticked.

Right.

They were gonna do this.

And he was ready.

He knifed up, put his beer to the coffee table, and prowled to the door.

Addie saw him, stopped with the bell, but glared at him through the glass.

She didn’t have Brooklyn.

Even better.

He could let loose.

Tobe made it to the door, flipped the lock and opened it, his mouth opening to start them off.

He didn’t get a word in.

She had both hands in his chest, pushing so hard his torso swung back, shouting, “You don’t ignore my kid!”

After that, she shoved past him, slamming into him with a shoulder.

He turned with her, closing the door, and he barely got around before she whirled, leaned his way, and screamed, “Don’t you ever ignore my boy!”

Fuck.

“Addie,” he murmured.

She lifted a hand and stabbed a finger at him. “Fuck you, Tobias Gamble.” Another stab and, “Fuck you!” She dropped her hand and yelled, “How dare you show at my home and stand in my kitchen with my son banging on your leg, and you don’t even look at him!”

He’d done that.

Intent to do what he’d decided he was gonna do, whether she liked it or not, he’d done that, and he’d made it fast so he could get it done before she said shit to piss him off further.

So yeah.

He’d done just that.

To Brooks.

“Honey,” he whispered.

In a flash she was in his space, in his face, her tits brushing his chest, her beautiful face twisted with rage, her mouth shrieking, “Don’t you fucking ‘honey’ me, Toby! Fuck you!”

“Calm down,” he urged quietly.

“Fuck calm, Tobias,” she snapped. “He gets that from his father.”

Pain tore through him as sure as if she’d stabbed him with a blade to the heart and slashed it down to his gut.