True (True Believers #1)(25)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Tyler let out a laugh. “True that, babe.” He finished clearing off the tabletop, which had been littered with dirty dishes.

Her eyes narrowed at me, and I realized I should have kept my mouth shut. “You go to college with Tyler? He thinks he’s smart now that he takes classes and obviously you do, too, with your cute little hair and your rich-girl clothes. But if you were smart, you wouldn’t be with a loser like him.”

Tyler’s laughter cut off.

Instantly I knew she had chosen the perfect way to slice him deep.

And I understood why he had made the comments he had, about being my dirty little secret.

This was his life, and he was ashamed of it.

“Don’t call him a loser,” Jayden said, coming to his brother’s defense in a way that made my heart swell. “He’s not a loser. He’s awesome.”

I could see Tyler’s tattoo on his arm, and I fully appreciated what that meant. They had one another, a band of four brothers, living in filth and tension. I knew almost immediately he would never call the cops, either, because then Jayden and Easton would be taken away.

For whatever reason, Jayden’s remark seemed to set their mother off. She swept her arm across the counter, sending glasses and cans and an ashtray flying across the room, dropping to the floor with a series of crashes and bangs. “I hate you all! I hate my life!”

Easton jumped out of the way of an errant can with a dexterity that showed this wasn’t the first time he had leapt for cover.

When Tyler reached for his mother, clearly intending to pull her arms down, she slapped and kicked at him, landing several hard blows. Then suddenly she crumpled against him, and he held her while her anger dissolved into hysterical sobbing.

“It’s okay,” he told her, stroking the back of her hair. “You’re fine.”

Tears welled in my eyes at the sight of him comforting her, his muscular arms holding up the woman who couldn’t hold herself up.

“What would I do without you?” she asked, voice anguished. “You know I don’t hate you. I love you boys, all of you.”

“I know. I know.” He petted her, and led her to the kitchen chair.

She crumpled onto the table, head on her arms, tears streaking down her gaunt face. “Where are my pills?”

“They’re all gone. You took them all.” Tyler pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. He held it up to her mouth. “Take a hit.”

She did, sucking deeply, head still prone on the table. Smoke blew from her thin mouth, her eyes sunken and hopeless. She reached out and hit the button on the radio, and heavy metal music blasted into the room.

There was a knock and a woman entered the kitchen from the back door. “Hey.”

“Aunt Jackie’s here,” Easton announced in the way that little kids have of stating the obvious.

“Get some f**king pants on, we’re going,” Aunt Jackie told Tyler’s mother. She was bundled up in a giant red sweatshirt, and she was wearing jeans that were at least three sizes too small. She had camel toe, and her cigarettes and cell phone were clearly outlined in her front pockets. She was a good hundred pounds heavier than Tyler’s mom, who had stood up and stumbled down the hall.

“Really, Jackie?” Tyler asked in disgust. “You’re not helping.”

“Don’t back talk me, brat,” she told him. She was in her forties, and she had seen some hard living, her skin leathery, hair thinning on top. “Look out for your brothers.”

“I always do,” he told her, taking the butter knife from Easton, who was managing to get more peanut butter on the counter than on his slice of bread. Tyler efficiently spread the peanut butter on the bread, then handed it to his brother, who took an enormous bite.

“Dawn! Let’s go!” Jackie shouted, ignoring Tyler.

His mother came back into the room wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her ni**les clearly poking through. She was carrying a ratty flannel shirt. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Put some real shoes on,” Tyler told her.

I glanced down and saw that she was wearing threadbare slippers that might have been pink at one time but were now a faded salmon.

“I’ll be fine.” She kissed him on the cheek, but her eyes were already darting to the door and she had a twitch in her eye and her mouth. Her hand was shaking noticeably.

Then they were gone, door slamming shut behind them, and I noticed that Easton’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Well, the good news is she won’t be back until Sunday most likely,” Tyler said, putting a lightheartedness into his tone that I knew he didn’t feel.

“Huzzah!” Jayden said, raising his bread in the air. “Can I turn this music off?”

“Please do.” Tyler pulled the keys out of his pocket. “I’m going to the grocery store. Is there anything you want?”

“Pop Tarts,” Jayden said.

“Milk,” was Easton’s response.

“Jesus,” Tyler muttered under his breath, and I knew that he was thinking exactly what I was thinking—that a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to ask for milk. Louder, he said, “Okay, be back in an hour. Lock the door.”

He stubbed out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray and pulled the nasty garbage bag out of the can and pulled it tight. Then he gestured for me to follow him out the back door.

I wasn’t sure what to say to him, but he had barely gone two feet when he said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have never brought you here. But when Easton called, I wasn’t sure how bad she was, and I didn’t want to take the time to drive you back. But I should have. I’m sorry.” He was fast-walking down the back steps, and in the dark I couldn’t see his face.

“It’s okay,” I told him, because it was.

“No, it’s not!” Tyler took the bag of garbage and threw it at the rusting metal cans next to the garage. It hit with a loud bang, knocking the can over, the lid spinning and coming to a stop a few feet away. “God! What the f**k was I thinking?” He reached out and kicked the can, twice, his boot making an angry dent. “Here I’ve been trying to impress you and then I bring you here. I’m a f**king idiot. What about my life could possibly impress you?”

His face was agonized, his anger and frustration and humiliation all written there clearly for me to read. I was struggling not to cry, because I knew that he was struggling not to cry tears of anger. I had never seen anything like what had just happened. I knew in theory that mothers could be awful and drug addiction was rampant and people lived in dirty houses, but I had never seen it. Never smelled it. Never heard those kinds of words designed to hurt outside of movies.