Twenty Years Old…
My stomach twists as I stare down at the check Mr. Warner has written for me.
I know it will cost me twice as much to pay it back, but it’s worth it.
Mom’s insurance was insufficient. Cancer will fucking do that. It’s funny how insurance works—you pay and pay into it in the event you’ll need it one day only to be told it won’t cover what you really need. Because of the shitty system, she still needs financial help. Pride isn’t something I can afford to have right now.
Giggles float into the kitchen right before a different female from last night saunters in wearing my kid brother’s shirt.
Leaving little to the imagination, the thin fabric shows a clear outline of her tiny tits and hard nipples. Bruises and stains litter her upper thighs.
Do girls have no class these days?
Walking over to where I’m sitting, drinking a mug of coffee, she sidles up to my chair and leans her ass against the table as she looks down at me.
She smells of sex and cheap perfume.
“Mmm. Who are you?” she purrs, reaching down to steal some of my bacon from the plate in front of me.
Brat.
When I don’t reply, she takes the mug from my hand and sips it. “I’m Briana.” She grins behind the mug.
“I didn’t ask,” I grind out, taking back my coffee and putting it on the table.
“Your coffee sucks,” she chirps, nonplussed at my attitude as she walks away. “How do you drink that stuff anyway? Do you have any alcohol?”
“You lack manners,” I snap, stopping her in her tracks.
Snorting, she swings her body toward me and makes a gesture with her hands, holding them up in mock surrender, and laughs. “Ohhh, so sorry, Dad.”
My hand whips out fast, grabbing her wrist and catching her off guard.
Tugging her body toward me, I throw her skinny ass over my lap. A screech leaves her lips, but she’s too stunned to fight it. I tan her ass with the palm of my hand.
Thwap!
Thwap!
Thwap!
Shoving her to her feet, I narrow my gaze on her shocked face. Her jaw is unhinged—eyes wide. Fuck, I bet her panties are damp, too.
“Go get dressed. Tell my brother I’m leaving for the hospital. He can meet me there.”
This place reeks of misery and death.
Our mother is in her final hours of life. The battle has been long and tedious—hope given and then stripped away. Happy days are bleeding into long weeks of pain and suffering.
She was a good woman, a devoted mother. Losing her will be hard on both my brother and me. But to know she’s no longer in a toxic hold of cancer’s grasp will bring us a little peace.
I can only hope there’s somewhere better she’s going to.
“Did you spank my date?” my brother’s voice croons, humor tinting his tone as he arrives and comes to stand beside me.
“She lacked manners, Ren,” I state with a frown.
“She was a clinger. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get rid of her. Your punishment did the job for me.” He shoulder nudges me. “Thanks.” He hands me a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it.
“What’s this?”
“Her number. She asked me to give it to you.”
Scrunching the paper up, I slip it into my pocket until I find a trashcan to throw it in.
“Gee, thanks.” I grimace.
“No problem. You going in or going to stare at her through the window all day?”
I’m not ready.
“She looks peaceful,” I mutter. “I don’t want to disturb her.”
She’s left us. I can feel it.
“Did you get the money from William’s father?” he asks, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets to stop the tremor of sorrow from being visible to me.
“I did.”
“Enough?”
“Enough to pay Mom’s final bills and enough left over to start our company.”
“It’s going to be a success, Ronan,” he assures me. “It has to be.”
Offering him a tight smile, I nod in agreement. “I don’t know how to fail,” I jest to lighten the mood and it works, making him scoff.
He knows it’s true.
Failure isn’t something I can allow.
We need a win.
“It’s time, boys,” the nurse informs us.
The pit in my stomach is back in full force. I grip my brother’s shoulder, and for the last time, push open the door to Mom’s room.
Present—Twelve years later
Lighting a candle, I embrace the familiarity the scent brings and smile down at the photograph of my mother, brother, and me on a day trip to the beach before she got sick.
“Simpler times,” Ren says, nudging me as he raises his near-empty bottle. “Twelve years and I still miss her.”
I nod in agreement, words unnecessary at the moment.
Missing her will never leave us. Every year we spend this night together, lighting a candle in her memory. And every time it hurts.
“I have someone for you.” He changes the subject and walks over to plant his ass in the chair opposite my desk.