Taking It Slow - Reese Knightley Page 0,19
since they were from two completely different worlds.
When they landed back at base, he didn’t even hit the showers before he was out the door and fighting the Friday evening traffic to Torrance.
Pulling up in front of the house, Will Mayer was standing on the front walkway. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that the CPS agent was just doing his job.
He got out of the truck and left the door open and strode toward the man.
“Mayer. Thought you were going to email me.”
“Turner.”
He stared at the partially open front door behind Mayer and then turned his full attention on the man.
“I do my welfare checks when I want. You know how this works.”
Yeah, he fucking knew. “Find anything?”
Mayer flicked a finger at the door. “It’s not a pretty situation in there.”
Fuck. His mother hadn’t heeded his warning.
“Neither was the place you put him in,” he finally growled.
Quick and hot anger filled the agent’s gaze, but Spencer didn’t give a fuck.
“You show up here, to what? Threaten my family and think you’re going to change things?”
He moved closer, but Mayer didn’t back up. In fact, the guy came closer, invading his space.
“What happened to Wesley is on her.” Mayer jerked his head to the house. “Not me.”
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Mayer was fucking dead on and it didn’t make it any easier to swallow, but the fucker was only making it worse.
“I’m reporting her for substance abuse. She’s got prescription pills sitting on the kitchen table.”
“I’ll talk to her. Just don’t report it yet, please.” His brain went over a hundred different situations of how to fucking make this work and take care of Wesley at the same time.
“I have to think of the boy,” Mayer drawled.
“This isn’t thinking of Wesley. You know what it will do to him.”
“Well, I suspect you have a choice to make then, don’t you?” Mayer eyed him.
Spencer knew the drill. He slid out his wallet and took out several bills.
Mayer gripped the cash and counted it while Spencer held his breath.
Mayer frowned at the money. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“I won’t have it till next Friday, payday.”
“You’ve got until next Friday, then.”
“You’ll get it.” Spencer clenched his teeth.
“I’d better because like I said, I have to think of Wesley.” Mayer snapped.
“Yeah. Of course, you do,” he said bitterly, sneering at the cash in Mayer’s hand.
The man’s nostrils flared. “One week.”
Mayer shoulder checked him on his way off the porch. It was all he could do not to go after the guy. Mayer seemed to make it his goal in life to be a dick and make shit way harder for people than it needed to be. Of course, he wasn’t helping matters by paying the guy off, but sometimes life was ugly and people did ugly shit to protect the ones they loved.
With a heavy sigh, he turned, but before he could reach the house, Wesley came barreling out of the door with his duffle bag in his hands. Seeing him, Wesley leaped off the porch and jogged across the distance.
“Wesley! You get back here!” his mother screeched, slamming out the broken screen door. She stood in the same dirty house dress and filthy slippers that had once been pink.
Wesley ignored her and came right to him.
“Hey.” Spencer reached out and pulled his brother into his arms. Wesley was shaking and Spencer squeezed him tightly for a few moments.
Mayer, having reached his car, gave him a scathing look before he got in and drove away.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured and gently pushed Wesley toward his truck. When his brother was safely inside, he turned toward his mother.
She saw him coming and backed up. She should. Not that he’d hit her, but she fucking deserved it.
“Are you trying to get him taken away?” he growled through a haze of red.
“No, of course not.” She sniffed. “He didn’t do the dishes.”
“The fucking dishes?” Here he was fighting to keep Wesley out of foster care and she was worried about her fucking dirty dishes? “He’s not your fucking servant. Do your own god damned dishes, because I know my brother and he cleans up after himself every damned time.”
She scooted a bit back from his menacing tone.
“Well,” she rubbed at her mouth, “you got any money?”
“No. I just gave what I had to Mayer to keep him off my fucking back.”
“Good for nothing!” she hissed.
“I’m going to ask you this once and only once. Have you been verbally abusing