“Go upstairs. I’ll see why she randomly stopped by and then try to get her to leave just as quickly.” I kiss her lips, knowing that it won’t be much longer until the cat will be out of the bag, consequences be damned. My only issue is that she’ll be receiving the backlash, listening to the comments every single family member will sling her way about what they think they know.
“Shit.” She pulls away. The turning of the key in the door has Montana grabbing her shoes she kicked off last night on her way into the house, and then she’s running into the pantry. I take a deep breath, pray that my boner goes the fuck away as I walk towards the door, opening it before Mom gets the chance to do so.
“Hey, Mom.” I give her a one-sided hug, making sure she doesn’t linger around me because I know my Mom; she can sniff anything out. I’m only hoping that neither I or the house smell of sex.
“Hi, baby boy, what took you so long to answer the door?” It’s then I realize she has a few bags in her hand. Without thought, I transfer them to mine and walk into the living room, trying to avoid the kitchen.
“Puttering around in the back of the house. If you had called to let me know you were coming over, I would have made us breakfast.” And made sure Montana wasn’t hiding half dressed in the pantry.
“I did. You didn’t answer. I was in the area and figured I’d bring over a few things from the store. You’ve been slowly outfitting this place, and, baby boy, you need pillows and blankets for your couch.” She plops down on the couch. There’s already a blanket courtesy of Montana and her need to unwind from work if she makes it here before I do.
“Shit, I left it on charge in the bedroom.” Not a lie. Once I’m off the clock and not on call for the weekends, it’s time for me to disconnect. This weekend, it’s Keller’s turn, and truthfully, it’s been months since anyone has needed to go out to a site on the weekends.
“That’s okay. I won’t be staying long. I’ve already had breakfast with your father. He’s currently puttering around in the workshop, probably building more wooden Christmas trees.” She rolls her eyes. Since he’s semi-retired unless we get swamped with work, this is what Dad does. It keeps him busy, plus Mom helps his little online store and posts them on a website. Neither of them can sit still to save their lives.
“It’s a little early, isn’t it?” I ask, thinking it’s still early summer, as in June early.
“We did, too, until the influx of orders started coming through, so he’s working on those, and since everyone is okay right now, we figure we’ll just get caught up.” She stands up and opens the bags she brought, pulling out a few cream-colored pillows along with a matching blanket, then moves them until she has them situated. I just leave her be. I don’t tell her to stop. This is something she does for all of her kids besides Leena, and that’s only because where we boys are into whatever is comfortable, our sister’s style is straight out of the seventies.
“I may need him in a few weeks. Now that the inside is done, the back deck needs to be ripped out and replaced. I thought it’d be reparable, but it’s not. The trusses are rotting. I’m going to keep everything as original as I can, though,” I tell her.
“Well, he’ll be happy to hear it. Why isn’t your truck in the garage?” She goes off topic.
“It doesn’t fit right now. Got more shit in the garage than I know what to do with. I’m thinking after the back deck, it’ll be time to build a shop.” I’m stretching the truth, but not too much that she’ll catch on. It’s an oversized attached building. If Montana’s SUV were any bigger, it wouldn’t fit in there either with all of my tools.
“Hmm, well, alright. I was only stopping by for a few minutes.” I stand up, bending down to kiss her cheek as she does the same to me. “Oh, do me a favor?”
“What’s that?” I respond, following her to the door.
“Tell Montana to bring her brownies tomorrow. Jace has been talking about them all week.” All I can do is smile. Leave it to my mom. She’s like a dog with a bone, hell, maybe a private investigator. Nope, maybe a member of the C.I.A.
“I’ll be sure to let her know.” The door is open, and we’re standing in the doorway.
“I know you, Asa, deep down to your core, but don’t forget who you truly are either. I love my kids equally. That doesn’t mean I agree with what they do or say, okay?”