Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(59)
Author: Monica Murphy

Chelsea, naked in my bed. Beneath me, making her cry out my name when I first enter her.

Yeah, I’ll gladly suffer through sore muscles for that.

“Uh, Owen.”

I glance up at the sound of Wade’s voice to see him with the door partially shut, his head tilted toward it and his expression one of pure panic.

Shit. I think I know who’s waiting on the doorstep. I gotta get rid of her, quick.

Pushing up from the couch, I rush toward the door, Wade backing away so he’s not in the middle of the family drama. Because there will be drama if I let her linger for any length of time. Fable is supposed to meet us here with her car before we head to The District for dinner. I can’t have her see Mom.

That is the absolute last thing I need.

“What are you doing here?” I say the moment I step out onto the front porch and slam the door behind me.

Mom glares at me, her arms wrapped around herself. She’s wearing raggedy old jeans, those same damn Nike shoes that have probably been around for ten years and look it, and a freaking T-shirt.

It’s like 50 degrees outside. She must be freezing.

You don’t care, man. You. Don’t. Care.

“It’s been almost two weeks.” Her expression turns pleading in an instant, but the hard glare is still in her eyes. I’m trying to look at her and see nothing, but it’s so damn hard. She’s my mom. I always feel like I owe her. “I need money, Owen. I need a smoke. I—I need to come down.”

Come down? Shit. “I don’t have any weed in the house.”

Her mouth hardens. “Don’t lie to me. You always have weed in the house.”

“Not this time.”

We stare at each other in silence, neither of us moving. We’re at a standoff and we’re both too stubborn to give in first. All I can think is the clock keeps ticking, bringing us closer to Fable showing up here soon, and Chelsea coming out of the shower and going in search of me.

“I need money,” Mom finally says, caving first.

“I don’t have much of that either. I’m taking less hours at work.”

Her mouth drops open. “Why would you do that?”

“Football season is eating into my time. Plus my schoolwork.”

“Still trying to pretend you care about school, huh? You can tell me the truth. I know how you really feel.”

“Yeah, when I was fifteen and always wanting to skip,” I say, glancing behind me. The blinds are open; I can see Wade pacing the living room but no Chelsea yet. Hopefully he’ll distract her for me.

“Like you’ve really changed. You’re the same ol’ Owen. My baby.” She reaches for me like she’s going to hug me, and I step out of the way, shocked that she’d do it. I can’t remember the last time she’s touched me with any sort of affection.

Her arms drop at her sides, her mouth turned into a deep frown. “Come on, Owen. Give me some money. I need at least twenty dollars. I have nowhere else to go.”

She almost sounds like she’s going to cry, but I don’t remember the last time I saw her do that either—if ever. So I call bullshit on the pathetic act. “You need to go, Mom. I—I can’t have you hanging out here.”

Her eyes narrow. “Why not? You got something to hide? Why won’t you smoke with me? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have any weed on me, I swear.” I really don’t. After I flushed the first joint down the toilet, I got rid of the rest. I haven’t had a smoke since that night at the hotel with Chelsea. Whatever Wade might have is on him. But me?

I’ve got nothing.

“What about your roommate? Let’s go ask him what you have. I remember that boy, you know. I used to talk to his mom sometimes. Real snob, that one.” She tries to dodge around me and grab the door handle but I’m quicker than her. I block the door, slapping my hand against the handle.

“Wade’s mom took care of me when you couldn’t,” I remind her. “She’s definitely not a snob.”

“That was your sister’s deal, not mine. She’s the one who always passed you off on that woman. Too busy out f**king around to worry about her baby brother.” Mom sneers.

Anger boils in my gut. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“I can talk about her any way I want. She’s my goddamn daughter. Not that she knows how to act like one.” Mom points her thumb at her chest and stumbles, almost falling right off the porch. I lunge for her, grabbing her by the elbows so I can set her back on her feet.

It happens so fast, she takes total advantage, darting beneath my arm and going straight for the door. I run after her, slap my hand against the door to keep from opening it, and she tugs on the handle, putting all her weight into it, though that’s not much. She’s like a shadow of her old self. Thin and frail-looking, her fried blond hair wispy and dry, her jeans bag off her body, and when I get close to her, I realize she smells. Bad.

“I want to talk to your roommate,” she says, her teeth clenched as she puts all her might into tugging the door handle again. “Stop trying to block me, Owen.”

“Where the hell are you living, Mom?” I wince. She doesn’t really like it when I call her Mom. She doesn’t want me to call her anything.

“What do you care?” She tosses over her shoulder. “I don’t have a home. Not that it matters to you or that bitch sister of yours.”

“Stop insulting Fable. I can’t stand it.”

“Good, because I can’t stand her and I can’t stand you! Always passing your judgment, acting like you’re so much better than me! You’re just the same, Owen Maguire. You and me, we’re exactly the same.”

I push away from her, staring at her in disbelief. She’s expressing everything I’ve always worried about but never put into actual words. Hearing her actually say it is …

Devastating.

“No we’re not,” I protest weakly, but she laughs.

Actually laughs.

“Oh yes, we are. It’s why I loved you best. You’re just like me, Owen. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to end up like me. Wandering through your life with no goals, no success. Every time you build yourself up, someone will kick you back down. That’s what always happens. They’ve all held me down through the years. Everyone. No one ever gave me a break. No one will ever give you one, either.”

I try to fight against her words but it’s hard. So hard. I feel like I’m ten years old again. She used to scare the hell out of me when she went on her drunken binges, cursing me and Fable and whoever happened to be the boyfriend of the month. It was always some loser who’d live with us for a little while, using her up only to spit her out.