“Well, man, you picked shitty women. I wouldn’t want to spend time with them either.”
“And my mom was a bitch too.”
“Isn’t she still alive?”
“Yomp.”
“Well, you said she was a bitch as if her bitchiness was past tense. She’s still a bitch, isn’t she?”
“Don’t talk about my mom.”
“My mom’s a bitch too,” he says, shuffling the cards again. “She lives in an alternative reality where I’ll wake up one day craving pussy. Then I’ll get married and have kids. Oh, and cut my hair. She hates it long. Yeah, I’m just one dream cycle away from being the son she actually wants. It sucks how me being me isn’t enough for her. She once made a snide comment about how she didn’t get to pick her son, as if she got screwed by having me. Well, she isn’t the mom I wanted either. I like Kelsi’s mom better, so I just decided she’s my real mother. I also like Shane’s mom. She makes me cookies and tells me I’m handsome. In fact, Shane’s father is better than mine too. I should just adopt those people.”
Hugh thinks about his idea and snorts. “That’s what you need, Dean. Adopt someone else’s mom, so you’ll get over having a shitty one.”
“I don’t think she’s shitty,” I say, knowing I’m going against what I just said minutes ago.
“Do you like your mom?”
“I guess.”
“Would you spend the weekend with her somewhere for a little vacation?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then you don’t like her,” he says with a head nod. “I once spent a weekend with my mom in Ohio, and I nearly went on a murder spree. It was awful. But I’ve spent weekends in Ellsberg at Winnie and Dylan’s house, and it’s always great. Shelby and Shane love hanging out with their parents. Ramona can’t deal with her mom for an hour without needing an exit. If you can’t be around your mom for a long period, you don’t like her.”
“I love my mom.”
“Everyone loves their mom. You know that, right?”
Sneering at him, I growl, “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
“But you might be.”
I bang my hands on the table. Hugh flinches and then bursts into laughter. This right here is why I seek him out. He never gets fazed by my crap.
“I’d suggest you get therapy,” he says, still chuckling, “but you’d just threaten the shrink and storm out.”
“Probably.”
“Do that thing I said about telling Shelby you want her to be over on certain days. I think you need to move slow. Those other chicks ended up living with you too quickly, and then you couldn’t break free.”
“They played their drama games. Fake pregnancies, suicide threats, all the tricks.”
“Shelby won’t do that. She likes to blurt out shit way too much to manipulate someone. One time, she was threatening me, and then halfway through her little tirade, she admitted that she would never hurt me. The chick can’t play games.”
“Why would she threaten you?”
“She wants to be intimidating like her brother and River. Even Taylor, but Shelby has something soft about her that ruins the effect. However, she did a good job beating the shit out of Fuse’s daughters. Oh, and she punched a sweet butt once when the chick said something negative about Kelsi. Your baby mama owns a glorious right hook.”
Smiling, I can imagine Shelby punching someone. I also know what Hugh means about her having a soft quality. I used to think it was her sexy curves that made her seem that way. But it’s her face. There’s something about her expressions that make me feel like she’s safe. That’s why I push her away.
Shelby Campbell might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she might warm any room she’s in. Yet, even I’m not stupid enough to think she’s safe.
THE CHAPTER WHERE SANDWICHES CLOCK THE PASSAGE OF TIME
THE WEIRDO
Goliath doesn’t come back from the three-day ride with a different perspective. Oh, I have no doubt he’s more comfortable with the men in his club. That doesn’t mean he’s gone cuddly. Goliath still looks irritated every time I show up at his trailer for a booty call, which I do several times a week.
Despite his unwillingness to call me his girlfriend, we’re essentially dating. Mostly, because I’m sneaky. Goliath might be satisfied with me showing up, fucking him, and leaving. That’s not enough for my heart. I’m willfully in denial. I want more.
That’s why I bring food to my booty calls. After we fuck, I don’t get dressed. Instead,