He shook his head and snatched his wallet off the end table, unwilling to listen to her justification when none of this bullshit could ever be justified. He shoved it into his pocket. “Whatever. I have to go to work.”
A frown pulled across her brow. “Work?”
His smile was full of his resentment. “I got a job. So I can take care of myself. So I don’t have to sit around here praying my mom will actually give a fuck and think to feed me.”
“Where?”
“Clover’s Italian Restaurant . . . Lawrence Bennet offered me a job in the kitchen.”
She paled. “I won’t allow it.”
Sickened, disgusted laughter bounced from the walls, the anger that had been simmering in him for years rising to a boil. “You won’t allow it?” he challenged, a sneer on his face. “You won’t allow me to make a little money for myself? What are you worried about, that I won’t be around here to pick you up off the floor and clean up your puke? Or that I won’t be here for one of your Johns to beat on, and he’s going to turn that beatin’ on you?”
Her entire face went white. “No, Ian, you got to listen to me. That man is no good. He’s tryin’ to sink his claws into you.”
A scoff ripped from his tongue. “What, now you’re the authority on good character?”
He started for the door, rounding her to get to it. His mama flew around and grabbed him by the arm. “You’ve got to listen to me, Ian. Trust me.”
He ripped his arm away. “Trust you? I fucking despise you. In case you didn’t know it, trust is earned, and you’ve never done a single thing to get it from me.”
He flung open the door.
She locked herself on his arm. “Ian, please, listen to me. That man . . . he is bad.”
He shrugged her off, unable to believe that she would do this to him.
Again and again. Over and over.
Hurting him at every turn. Rage burned at the base of his throat. She’d been responsible for Jace getting sent away.
“Go to hell.”
The only thing she wanted to do was hold him back. Keep him poor and hungry and pathetic like her.
Desperation clogged her words. “Ian, oh, God, please, you’ve got to hear me. Listen to what I’m sayin’. Everything I’ve ever done was for you. Everything.”
He whirled around, voice full of spite. “And look what that got me.”
She whimpered, and his eyes fell over her.
His heart hurt.
Hurt so damned bad looking at her. Skinny as fuck, all bone, fucking spreading her legs for the bag he was sure she had tucked in her purse.
She’d promised. She promised it was going to be different this time. That they were coming back to the city so she could actually take care of him. But it never was. It was always the same. It was never going to change.
Old agony thundered in his blood. She’d let them hurt him. She’d let them. She’d let them.
His face twisted in hatred. “Why don’t you do us a favor and end it. Because I’m finished with this.”
He turned around and started out the door of the crummy apartment.
Home-fucking-sweet-home.
Repulsion shivered across his skin when she reached out again and grabbed his hand, yanking him back. “Please, Ian, don’t go, don’t go.”
“Let me go.”
“No,” she whispered. “I won’t let you go. I love you.”
He tugged his arm, hard enough that she stumbled forward. “Yeah, well I wish you were dead.”
Stricken, her shoulders sagged and tears ran down her face.
Guilt streaked through Ian.
Just like it always did.
Every time she cried, he’d feel guilty, like it was his responsibility for the choices she’d made.
He was finished being responsible for her.
It was time he took responsibility for himself.
He turned his back on her, storming away to her whimpers and cries that started to jut from her mouth. “I’m sorry, Ian. I’m so sorry. I tried to be a good mama. I tried, but I failed, but I will always love you. Forever and ever.”
Her words impaled him the whole way, and he hurried to outrun them, banging through the stairwell door, like he could stop himself from hearing what she’s said.
Because Ian . . . Ian couldn’t take one more lie.
* * *
Ian finished running the last of the dishes through the industrial dishwasher. He was drying his hands when his new boss walked by, pausing to squeeze him on the shoulder. “Good job tonight, kid. Keep working hard like this, and you’re going to do big, big things.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ian told Mr. Bennet, dipping his head, trying not to grovel like a pathetic fuck when the man handed him a folded hundred.
His mouth watered, thinking about the food he could buy with it. That he was finally gonna be able to stand up and be the man Jace had always told him he’d be.