Reckless (Mason Family #3) - Adriana Locke Page 0,79

head, and I’m reminded of the whiskey.

And that I’m at Oliver’s.

Because of my fight with Jaxi.

Shit.

Suddenly, a lot more than my head hurts.

I ponder lying in Oliver’s guest room and never getting up. I wonder how long it would take for someone to find me? Before I will myself back to sleep, the breakfast aroma wafts into the room again.

Why is Oliver being nice?

I groan as I roll out of bed, wincing as I slip on my pants. I curse the sun as I try to get my bearings and a clear head. When I glance at my phone, I somehow manage not to throw it at the wall when I see no calls or missed texts.

What a wonderful new day. Not.

The stairs are steep as I head upstairs. We’ll need to put some safety gates or something so it’s safe for Rosie here. Or, actually, she likes Wade so damn much, so we just won’t let her play at Oliver’s.

That makes me chuckle, imagining Oliver’s put-out expression.

Then I stop. I close my eyes and let the reintroduction to heartbreak snap through my chest.

I grip the banister and see Jaxi’s face.

I wonder if she slept well. I wonder if she missed me. I wonder what she told Rosie.

“This is going to suck,” I mutter as I get to the top of the stairs.

My watch says it’s almost eleven in the morning, and I kick myself for missing work. Hopefully, Oliver told Wade I’d be late, so he’s not waiting on me to meet with the legal department over Greyshell.

I round the corner into the kitchen and stop in my tracks.

My mother is standing in the middle of Oliver’s kitchen with a no-nonsense look on her face.

That’s never good.

“Good morning,” she says, setting a plate of biscuits smothered in gravy in front of me. “It’s about time you got up.”

“What are you doing here?”

She opens the refrigerator and plucks out a Gatorade. She sets it next to the food.

“I’m here because your brother called me and told me what happened,” she says.

I sit on a stool.

The food smells amazing, but it also makes me slightly nauseous. I burp. It smells like whiskey.

This does not amuse my mother.

She toys with a pink heart on her necklace and looks at me with full displeasure.

“Hungover?” she asks.

“A little.”

“Hmm.”

“In case you’re wondering,” I say, picking up the drink, “I’m not good today. I’m pissed off. I’m sad, if you must know. I’m irritated that Oliver called you before I had a chance to wrap my brain around things.”

She lifts a brow before taking the pan to the sink.

“In case you must know,” she says, “Oliver was worried about you.”

I take a long drink, and the cold fluid feels good in my stomach.

“I’m sure he was,” I say sarcastically.

She sighs. “I’m not going to ask you what happened because I already know.”

“Good.”

“But I am going to demand you fix this.”

I pick up my fork. “I realize I shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds me, but this is none of your business, Mom.”

The water shuts off in a flash. She gives me a look—the look. The one that says I’ve overstepped.

I stt the fork back down. “I’m sorry.”

The look eases. “You’re entitled to be upset today. I’m entitled to be upset with you too.”

“And why are you upset with me, considering this has nothing to do with you?”

She laughs a one-syllable, choppy laugh that means she’s not laughing at all.

“What? It doesn’t,” I say. “My girlfriend broke up with me. I’m not ten. You don’t have to listen to me cry in my pillow.”

She wipes the counters down with a rag. “I’m not going to listen to you cry in your pillow because you’re going to stop this.”

Irritation sweeps through me, causing my head to pulse again. I’d ask her who she thinks she is, but I know the answer. She’s Siggy freaking Mason, and she’ll kick my ass.

I’m not that hungover.

She tosses the rag in the sink, and then the façade comes off. The hands go on the hips.

I brace myself.

“What kind of man do you think I raised?” she says, starting off nice and hard.

“Depends on which one you’re talking about.”

She narrows her eyes. “Don’t be dense, Boone. I’m talking about you.”

“In that case, extremely handsome. Funny. Charming. Lots of people say charming.”

“Oh, you’re funny all right.”

“Why are you being mean to me?” I ask. “When Coy was all fucked up over Bells, you were kissing his ass.” My eyes go wide. “I’m still drunk!