by Marie James
“Is that a bird?” Alex asks as he draws closer, his eyes glued to my phone.
“I am a God, you little shit!”
Alex grins, but I squeeze my phone a little too hard.
“That’s Ig’s son, so quit the foul language,” my friend says before I have a chance to threaten the damn thing with the death he wants to see happen to Wren’s girlfriend’s cat Simon.
“I don’t mind.” Alex smiles up at me, and I’m sure he’s heard stuff just as bad at school. I remember junior high. We all thought we were badasses, and honestly, our mouths were the only thing to back it up. “How many words does he know?”
“I’m right here, you little sh—”
Wren snaps out a, “Hey!” stopping the bird from seriously getting on my bad side. I understand the bird and his personality, but that little fucker doesn’t know when to tone it down.
“I mean…” Alex and I watch the screen still turned to focus on Puff as he walks back and forth on his perch mumbling incoherently to himself. “Dios mio. Esto es dificil.”
“He’s bilingual?”
I look at Alex with a wide grin. “Do you know what he said?”
My language-loving heart waits for his answer.
He shrugs. “He said my God this is hard.”
“Like my c—”
“Hey!” Wren snaps at Puff again. “Stop it.”
“You know Spanish?”
Alex blinks up at me. “Not a lot but you don’t grow up in Houston without picking some up. What else can he say?”
The bird has all of his attention, and I for one am glad he’s distracted instead of still living inside his head and focusing on his pain.
“Such a wise guy,” the bird squawks. “I know all the words!”
His wings spread wide again as he bounces on his perch, sounding like a maniacal ruler of all the lands.
“Can he sing?”
“Name your poison, kid!”
“What about Drake?”
“Trash!”
“Roddy Rich?”
“Trash! Come on. Give me something I can work with!”
“Cardi B?”
“Oh God,” Wren groans. “Don’t even think about it.”
The bird makes a humming noise.
“Puff, pick something else,” Wren insists.
“Gobble me, swallow me. Drip down the side of me!”
Alex busts out with a laugh and I’m just grateful the damn bird didn’t start with the fucking chorus, then I hear him humming it, whores in this house implied in the rhythm.
“That’s epic,” Alex praises. “When can I meet him in person?”
He looks up at me, and God do I want him in St. Louis.
“Come at me, bro,” Puff snaps before continuing humming the tune to that damn song.
I don’t get another word in when Alex takes the phone from me and heads out into the living room. His face is glued to the phone, his laughs echoing around the room as Puff entertains him for the better part of an hour before promptly telling my son to fuck off and go to school.
Wren apologizes, but all I can do is smile. I called because I needed a friend, someone to tell me what I should be doing to help my son get a little bit of his happiness back, and his dumbass bird was all it took. I’m not offended by the foul-mouth little thing.
I’m grateful.
Chapter 22
Tinley
I never realized what people meant when they said they were walking around like their life was a dream, and I don’t mean in an everything is perfect sense. I’ve been in a dreamlike state for three days, every voice an echo, every conversation tainted with the haze of detachment. I’ve been going through the motions, yet somehow still always looking over my shoulder.
It took Cooper less than twenty-four hours to trash the house while we were at the hotel. I was thankful I left the keys to Ignacio’s truck with the desk clerk and took an Uber to the funeral home. I did it out of spite, a way to prove to him that I don’t need him, but it worked out in my favor. Had I brought Alex home to that mess, it might have broken me more than I already am.
I spent over an hour cleaning the living room, kitchen, and bathroom filled with fear that my brother would show up again. We don’t live in the best neighborhood, but with diligence, I’ve managed to feel mostly safe here. I hate that Cooper snatched that away from me so easily.
“Are you ready?”
I turn my head to look at Ignacio. Despite what happened between us at the hotel and the aftermath, I’ve leaned on him probably more than I should’ve in the last couple of days leading up to today.
“No,” I answer honestly, switching my gaze to the small group of people making their way to my mother’s open grave.
Alex places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and it hurts more than helps. I should be consoling him, making sure he’s okay. So easily I’ve let those responsibilities shift, leaving that weight on his and Ignacio’s shoulders. I want to straighten up and hold my head up high, assure everyone that I’m okay, but I don’t have the strength to even lie.
Confusion draws in my brows when I see Ignacio standing at my side of his truck with his hand out. I don’t know when he and Alex climbed out but they’re both looking at me expectantly.
The prospect of losing time helps me to snap out of it enough to take Ig’s hand and climb out of the truck. He moves his arm around my shoulder as I reach down to take Alex’s hand.
My son has been so brave through all of this, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of toll it’s taking on him emotionally. Externally, he seems to have accepted Mom’s death, but I know better. He’s hurting, and I’ve been hurting too much to help him.
As we walk to take our seats for the graveside service, I make a vow to snap out of it and do better, but as the minister begins to speak about my mother, I beg God for just a few more minutes before that strength is expected of me.
I can’t focus on the service, which is a shame because it’s my mother’s final farewell, because my eyes are darting all over the place waiting for Cooper to show up and make a scene.
Somehow we make it through without his shadow looming over us, and through the wake—held at the activity hall at the church because I’m too embarrassed for anyone to see the condition of the house—without the sight of him.
As grateful as I am, I’m still appalled that he couldn’t be bothered. I texted him—a message that went unresponded to—with the information on the service more than once, but he’ll still somehow turn it around on me for missing it.
I haven’t seen him since that first day, but I’m not hopeful I’ve seen the last of him. His threat of selling the house hangs in the air around the place like it knows it’s going to be rid of us soon.
“We don’t have to stay,” Ignacio says, leaning close to my ear after a lady I’ve never seen before in my life walks away.
She told me how much she adored my mother, how she knew her for years, and hinted at them being best friends. Social rules forced me to smile at her, pretend to be sorry for her loss when all I wanted to do was ask her where the fuck she’s been if they were so close. Where was she when Mom got sick? When she sat alone some days during her chemo treatments because I had to drop her off and go back to work so the bills would get paid.
I hate—fucking hate—funerals and wakes. I hate that I’ve experienced this now twice, both of my parents gone way too soon, but at least at Dad’s wake some of the people were genuine. Those people we had over for dinner and backyard BBQs.
Maybe illness is the difference. Maybe friendships were strained due to her long, drawn-out illness. Dad’s death was sudden. There one minute, gone the next. Both deaths are a tragedy, but his was more dramatic. Everyone knows someone who has died of cancer. Very few have gotten news that someone they knew was crushed by a crane on a jobsite.
“Tinley?”
I look up at Ignacio, a look of concern on his handsome face that barely even registers. It�
��s no longer my job to worry about him and how he’s feeling, not that I’ve spent much effort on it since he popped back into my life in the first place.
“What?”
“Are you ready to leave?”
“There are more people,” I say, despite my whole internal tirade about how much I hate being here right now.
“Fuck those people,” he says. “I don’t care about them.”
Don’t care much for me either.
“Where’s Alex?”
“Waiting in the truck. He doesn’t want to be here.”
And that’s all it takes. I may not have to worry about the man in front of me, but Alex will always be my concern. “Let’s go.”
Ignacio guides me out of the activity center, barely giving me enough time to nod at the minister. By the time we make it back to the house, I’m wishing we stayed to listen to all the shit spewing from people’s mouths.
The scene in front of me when I push open the front door is much worse than dealing with fake people.
Cooper, along with a man I don’t recognize, stand in the middle of the living room, my brother shooting daggers at me at the interruption.
“Buddy, why don’t you go to your room for a while, maybe get out of those nice clothes,” Ignacio urges, his eyes locked on Cooper.
I know Alex wants to argue, wants to be here either to protect me or not wanting to miss whatever family drama is about to unfold.
“Hi,” the stranger says with his hand out stretched as he steps closer to me.
Ignacio repositions himself making it very clear to the man that he doesn’t have permission to touch me. He drops his hand, lips spreading into a thin line.
“I was just talking to your husband—”
“Brother,” I correct, watching the man’s face fall even further.
I glare at Cooper for the lie he told the man. It’s not the first time he’s said some fucked-up shit like that to someone, using the fact that we still have the same last name to manipulate a situation. Usually it’s on a credit application, but this is an all-time low.
“I’m Manny Fitzgerald with Graham Realty.”
“Brooke Holland’s estate hasn’t even been settled,” Ignacio begins. “I think you being here is a little premature.”
Cooper growls, somehow maintaining most of his composure in front of the new man. Houses down here are a hard sell as it is. Finding someone willing to take a look in mere days is a miracle in and of itself.
“No,” I say, putting my hand on Ignacio’s back and urging him to the side. “I think getting a look now is best.”
I give all of them a weak smile, unwilling to explain that I can’t stay here. I don’t want to be homeless, but if I make things harder for Cooper, he’s only going to make things harder for me. If I refuse to let him sell, he’ll demand his half of the value in cash. We all know I don’t have it. If he doesn’t demand money, he’ll move his ass in here and with that comes his degenerate friends, and I refuse to have my son around that.
It doesn’t take long for the man to walk through the property and make notes. Alex keeps a wide berth between him and his uncle. I’ve never bad-mouthed my brother in front of him, but he’s heard the conversations, the yelling when Cooper would show his face at random times in his life. I’m just glad Cooper never set his focus on my child. If he ever did, there would be another plot added to the family burial site.
That thought makes me snort, an effort to hide the pain. We don’t have a family burial plot. My dad was laid to rest in Dallas where his side of the family is from, and we told our goodbyes to my mother on the cheapest plot of land we could find, one that is still going to take years to pay off despite the discount.
I hate finding Ignacio on the couch with Alex after changing out of my dress from the funeral. Seeing Cooper and the way he acts only gives him more ammunition to use against me where Alex is concerned, and I feel it in my gut that that is where this entire situation is heading.
Chapter 23
Ignacio
She wants me to leave. I know she does. It’s in the way she can’t seem to settle. It’s also clear she’s scared to stay here. The little haven she’s managed to build in this house has been shattered, not only by the loss of her mother but also by the way her brother has acted.
The man didn’t even show up at his mother’s funeral. What kind of psycho does that? I could understand if Brooke was a horrible parent, but I know she was loving and made numerous sacrifices for her children.
Seeing the way Cooper ended up makes me appreciate getting out of this town even more.
The man sits in the corner of the room, scowling, leg bouncing up and down. It’s obvious he’s anxious or jonesing. Either way, he seems one blink away from losing his shit.
I don’t know where the boundaries are. Bossing Tinley around before made her eyes go wide and her breathing grow erratic. When we were younger, she loved it, something I obliged as often as I could.
Now—now is a different story. She’s spent her entire adult life making her own decisions, having to forge a place in the world alone. That takes backbone and determination. I don’t know how she’ll react if I tell her she isn’t staying here.
For the last hour, I’ve watched her roam around the house, straightening and cleaning although the house is in decent shape considering the mess she came home to after Cooper’s arrival a few days ago.
“Change the fucking channel,” Cooper snaps, his fingers digging into his bouncing thigh.
I turn my head to look at him, once again not wanting to cross a line, but hell, this guy would piss a saint off, forcing them into confession for the violent thoughts he invokes.
“The game is on,” I tell him as calmly as I can manage.
“Who fucking cares?” My jaw tenses.
I have a mouth on me just as bad as the next guy, but at least I’ve done my best to restrain myself around my son. Alex tenses beside me, but he keeps his eyes on the television. I have no idea what Cooper has done to instill such fear in the kid, but it’s another mark in the negative column for his uncle.
After taking a deep breath, just about the only thing that’s going to keep me from punching him in the nose when I stand, I get to my feet.
Alex looks up at me, nervousness clear on his young, tired face. I look over at Tinley as she stands in the doorway to the kitchen and notice the same anxiousness on hers.
“Do you guys have your bags packed for the week?”
She fidgets, her hands twisting in front of her.
“I’ll go pack mine now,” Alex says, springing off the couch and heading down the narrow hall to his room.
“Tin?”
She swallows, her delicate neck working like a beacon for my attention.
“Go get packed,” I urge when she just stands there, her brain no doubt running down the list of should and shouldn’ts.
Decision made, she turns away and heads to her room.
If I thought being nice to Cooper would make him change and drop the asshole defensive attitude he showed up with, I might swallow down the hatred I have for him, but I know it won’t make any difference. He’s the type of man who isn’t happy unless everyone around him is miserable. His joy comes from tearing others down, and I find it disgusting.
I turn my back on him, hoping he doesn’t see it as an opportunity to attack since he’s been acting like a caged animal since the appraiser left, and walk toward the door to wait for Tinley and Alex.
“You know Cedric is pretty pissed you came in and made Alex quit his job.”
I clench my jaw, willing the tick threatening near my eye to settle.
“Cedric shouldn’t be using children to get his product out.” Unfocused eyes stare back at me when I turn back in Cooper’s direction.
“It was good enough for us.” He tilts his head, rubbing his ear on his shoulder as his legs both continue to bounce.
“I don’t want my son involved in that mess.”
“He�
�s been your son for like five minutes,” he argues.
“He’s been my son his entire life. He deserves better.”
“And we didn’t?” He’s growing angry, and that’s the last damn thing I need while my family is still in this house.
“We did, too,” I say, looking him directly in the eye. “And you should be happy that I’m here to make sure he doesn’t go down the same path we did.”
He snorts, a sound of derision that makes my entire body tense. Is he doubting my ability as a father or questioning my dedication to Alex altogether?
“There’s no saving him, just like there was no saving us.”
And that’s where he’s wrong. He’s partially right. Many people around here don’t make it out, but I did. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure Alex does too.
“She’s never going to leave here,” he mutters.
“You’re not really giving her a choice since you’re selling the house out from under her.”
The door to Alex’s room opens, gaining my attention.
“You ready?”
He nods, his eyes darting to Cooper for a brief second. The kid is smart, assessing the situation, checking his surroundings for danger. It makes me proud and sad he’s had to do it all at the same time.
“Go wait in the truck for your mom.”
He walks outside without hesitation.
Cooper, thankfully distracted by his cell phone, doesn’t even notice when Tinley walks out of her room with a packed bag, and we leave him in the living room without a word.
“He’s going to trash the house again,” she mutters as we walk to the truck.
“Maybe not.” He will. “He knows he wants it to sell quickly, and more damage would hinder that.”
She sighs, not taking my reasoning as gospel. She knows her brother better than I do after all.
She melts into the passenger seat, eyes fluttering closed as if getting away from the house finally gives her the permission to relax that she’s been waiting for.
She doesn’t ask where we’re going or argue when I pull up outside of the house I’ve rented. She’s bone-tired, both mentally and physically exhausted.