I felt Lane’s stress-level jump as soon as we pulled up to the valet.

“I should’ve opted out,” she said. “This place is really nice, and I’m basically wearing sweats.”

“You could take them off,” I said, smirking. “You look fine. Great, in fact.” I took the ticket from the valet and waited for her to come around the car.

“I have five dollars and my bus pass tucked into my bra,” she whispered when she was next to me. “Do you think that will get me more than a glass of water?”

“Don’t talk about what you have in your bra, Lane. Pulling off being your gay best friend is going to be a lot tougher if I keep staring at your breasts and adjusting my hard-on.” I slipped my arm around her waist as we went inside, staying close enough to whisper in her ear. “By the way, I’m buying, so feel free to order some bread to go with that water.”

“Good thing you’re my gay best friend and not someone who’s trying to get in my pants. Because bread wouldn’t pop open the first button.”

“Good thing your pants don’t have buttons then.”

I loved it when she tried to hide her smile by putting her lip between her teeth. Could watch her do that all day. But unfortunately, today was not that day. Today I’d be lucky if could walk out of here without biting my own tongue off.

As soon as I saw the Windhams in the lobby, I put on my work-mask, one of the only useful skills Renee had taught me. They were longtime friends of the family. Longtime friends who were nice enough people to believe Renee was equally nice. Plus, they had good-sized pockets and were big supporters of the foundation.

“You got here fast.” I shook hands with Michael and introduced him and Nina to Lane, who’d never looked more uncomfortable. She was fidgeting and angling her body to hide what she was wearing. She had no idea that she’d be the most beautiful thing in the place even if she was wearing a tablecloth. We sat down and ordered drinks while we waited for Renee and the Curtises.

As I watched Lane struggle through the small talk, I felt a tinge of regret for bringing her. It was a completely selfish thing to do—use her as a buffer between Renee and me. But she could have refused and she hadn’t. She needed to learn how to say what she wanted instead of pretending she was fine with every decision someone else made for her.

Fate and frogs—the two things she liked to think existed, maybe even needed to think existed. Not as if I didn’t have my own pathetic issues with both of those things. What she called fate, I called heredity—nature and nurture. I couldn’t actually beat it, but I could manipulate it. Like pointing a gun at someone: You can hope and pray it won’t fire as much as you want, but if you keep your finger on the trigger, chances are it’s going to go off eventually.

So as long as I kept my finger and all my other parts away from the trigger, I could enjoy her. I was fine with being a frog. I just didn’t want to be the poisonous kind. Because to hurt the woman sitting next to me—her hands gripping the fabric of her pants, her lips stuck in the fakest looking smile I’d ever seen—to hurt her would mean I’d lost. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her, for a bunch of reasons—some good, others idiotic. But it wasn’t really a choice at this point.

Why was I doing this to myself? Every time we kissed or she did her “yes” look, it got worse. She was the one who was supposed to be working through shit. Not me. I was just supposed to be around to fuck. Damn, I hoped that happened soon.

Instead, it had turned into a test of both our limits. A long test with only one right answer.

I leaned towards her, peeling her fingers off her pants and whispering, “It’ll be okay. Whenever you want to leave, squeeze”—I couldn’t help myself—“my cock.”

She gasped and looked at me with a horror-filled but slightly amused expression. What was it about her that made me want to tease her so mercilessly? She could take it, for one. I wanted to make sure she remembered how badly I wanted her, for two.

“Do you play golf, Michael?” she asked Windham. “Because Carson absolutely loves golf, but he never has anyone to play with.” And she could throw it right back at me, for three. “Right?” She looked at me so innocently. Only the subtle curl of her mouth gave her away.

“I would never have pegged you for a golf lover, Carson,” Michael said. “I’d love to meet you for a game sometime. You don’t play, Laney?”

“With Carson? No, I don’t play with him. In fact, most of the time he just plays with himself.” She took a sip of water to hide her smile.

“Don’t think there won’t be repercussions for that,” I mumbled.

All enjoyment disappeared when Renee and the Curtises came in. I was almost fast enough to hold out one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table for Renee, so she’d be as far from me as possible. But the Curtises were quicker, and I ended up holding out the chair next to my own for Renee.

When she ordered a bottle of champagne, I instantly tasted bile and knew something really bad was about to happen. Under the table, Lane put her hand on my thigh and, without saying a word, asked me if I was okay.

No. No, I wasn’t. I could fake it for a little while, but I was never okay around Renee. Every time I saw her, the last thirteen years suddenly disappeared and I was just a clueless, terrified kid looking up at my beautiful mother, afraid of asking her why.

“Carson,” Lane whispered, her lips barely moving, “what’s wrong?” She’d probably seen me tense, just like anyone else at the table who’d been looking at me would have. My mother definitely saw. And my mother definitely did nothing, which didn’t surprise me at all.

I took a deep breath, focusing on making it through lunch, knowing that once it was over, I wouldn’t have to see her for another year.

When the other people at the table asked what was going on, Renee smiled, giggling like someone thirty years younger.

“What’s the big secret, Renee?” Michael asked.

I’d never been more tempted. Fuck, I’d love to tell everyone what Renee’s big secret was. Fucking love it. In my head, I could actually hear my voice say the words, watching Windham’s jaw drop, his wife’s eyes widen. Gasps and whispers, my mother’s hurried list of denials.

So tempting. And such a bad idea.

“What’s the champagne for, Mother?” I used the title for the donors’ benefit, not because she’d ever done anything to deserve it.

“I’ll tell you when it gets here.” For two of the longest minutes of my life, I waited. Once everyone had a glass of champagne in their hand, Renee blew out a breath, smiled, and held up her glass. “I thought it was fitting to announce this on a day that celebrates my late husband’s legacy.”

Fuck. This was going to be bad. When I downed my champagne, all eyes turned towards me. “Oh, I thought you were done.” I refilled my glass. “Sorry, Mother. Please continue.”

“When Carson started the Bennett Foundation, I wasn’t sure it was the right decision. But it has turned into something I’m very proud of him for.” She looked at me lovingly and I felt the eyes of everyone at the table again, but this time they were probably thinking what an amazing relationship she and I shared. Envied it even.

All I could think about was how she’d reacted when I told her what I was going to do with my half of Dad’s estate that he’d split between my brother and me. Six years after he croaked, as soon as I turned eighteen, I’d used every penny to start and fund the foundation. The look on Renee’s face was something I should’ve taken a picture of.

She’d been horrified. Initially it was because, after putting up with the man for over two decades, the asshole had only left her a small fortune, the entirety of which she went through in the first couple years. And then that I had “blown it all” on something for people outside our family…? That was inexcusable. She was so pissed, she couldn’t bring even herself to speak to me. It was probably the best year of my whole fucking life.

I wouldn’t have touched my father’s money even if I was homeless and lived in a shopping cart. It was blood money, tainted by the bastard it belonged to. Now it was helping a lot of kids who my father would’ve— Well, who my father would have treated a lot better than he did his own.

Because he didn’t love those other kids. Which meant he didn’t hate them, either.

Ironically, a year later my aunt, the poor woman who’d grown up in the same house as my old man, died and left everything to her nephews. She’d had more cash than my dad had.

“Carson’s father would’ve been proud of him, too,” Renee said, calling up a few of those fake tears she had an endless supply of. I doubted she could even make the real ones anymore. “He’d want both of us to be happy, which is why, in just over a month from now, I’m getting married to a wonderful man.”

And there it was. My abs clenched, shooting the breath out of me but not letting any back in. Another marriage. Another asshole. Another chance for Renee to ruin her life. Good for her, but I wasn’t going to fucking watch it happen again.

As the other people at the table congratulated her, all I could be thankful for was that I hadn’t eaten anything. I pushed my chair back from the table and stood, not caring how it looked or what anyone thought. I walked blindly for the exit, hearing someone call my name. She was next to me before I knew who it was.

“What just happened?” Lane asked. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to pretend to throw up.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“But”—she motioned back to the dining room—“you don’t want to say…anything to them?”

“No.” I wasn’t nearly as good at faking it as Renee was.

The woman had always been gifted at that. Smiling without wincing even when under her expertly applied makeup was a split lip. Coming up with new lies every time she couldn’t hide the damage my dad or any of her other asshole husbands did to her.

And to me.

Now she was heading back in for more. I didn’t need to meet the guy to know exactly what he was. Renee would never be with someone who didn’t treat her like shit. I shouldn’t have been surprised, either—the last one had thrown her out over a year ago. And a year was way too long for her to go without being smacked around.

“Carson.” Renee’s voice was piercing. Even though it never rose in volume, I could always hear it from fifty feet away. Every lie she told, every emotion she faked, every excuse she gave.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Now or ever.

“You will talk to me because I am your mother and I deserve respect.” She was only a few feet away now.

“Respect? For what exactly? Name one thing you’ve ever done that deserves my respect.” My mind was on a train to totally-fucking-useless-ville and picking up speed. She wouldn’t answer and she’d never change, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore. “Why should I be the only one? You don’t. None of your ex-husbands did, so I’m pretty sure your newest fiancé doesn’t either—why break the loser streak, right?”

“If you have a problem with me, then we can discuss it.” She glanced back towards the dining room and then at Lane. I guess to remind me I needed to lie. “But not in public, not in front of people we know.”

“How well do they know you if they don’t know you like being hit?”

“Carson, stop right now!”

“Isn’t that kind of a fundamental part of you?” We spoke over each other without raising our voices in the slightest. If anybody was looking at us, they’d be able to tell our conversation was heated, but wouldn’t hear a single word.

“Why are you ruining what should be a wonderful day, Carson?”

“Not in a kinky way, though. Renee can’t go very long before she needs it. Like a drug. She’s an addict.”

“How dare you call me names? Tell awful lies about me?”

“Lies, right.”

Lane stepped backwards, practically cowering. The look on her face quelled the fire in me, made me regret an argument that had never really started because it would never really end.

“Whatever ridiculous things you might think about me, they are wrong. Situations misconstrued by the perceptions of a child.”

“You’re right—I was just a child.” It had never mattered that we lived in the same houses and felt the same fists. Because no two people ever punish themselves in the same way.

I handed Lane the valet slip. “Can you get the car while I finish congratulating Renee on her good news?”

Lane was silent for a minute, staring up at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“I’ll be right there.” As soon as she was out the door, I turned back to Renee, but my anger was gone. I even followed her when she stepped into a small alcove where no one would be able to overhear proof of our familial dysfunction. “Who’s replacing Dad this time?” Hopefully she was smart enough not to marry a boxer.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Carson. You never did. I loved your father with all my heart.”

“I know that. Every time we left him, you told me. I know you loved him because what other possible reason could you have had for dragging your son back for more?”

She turned on the tears like turning on a fucking faucet.

“And I guess you’ve loved every man who’s hit you since. Because what possible other reason could you have for continually picking them? You’ve got some kind of radar, Renee. Or maybe it’s a magnetic pull to any man with good enough fists.”

She slapped me across the face, and all I could do was laugh. She reacted with violence. Understandable, but still surprising. She’d never hit me before, maybe because she always made sure someone else was there to do it for her.

Obviously, all that experience being on the receiving end had taught her something. I rubbed my cheek and jaw to lessen the sting and get the blood moving. “It hurts even more than the hit does, but if you rub the area right away, you don’t get as much bruising.” My next words were soft. “My mother taught me that.”

“Carson, I’m—”

I stopped her by putting my hands up at two and ten. Three words, when put in the right order, have the power to maim or to heal. Same words, same order. The only difference is what’s behind them—truth or bullshit.

I couldn’t count how many times I’d heard them.

“I am sorry.”

The only thing I could count was how many times it was the truth.

As for those other three words—the really famous ones—well… I’d heard them countless times, and I knew they were true. Just like I knew the pain of the beating that came with them.

“I’m probably not going to make the wedding, but I’ll try to send you something.” I didn’t ask her if she would keep cashing my checks, because it wasn’t about money. It had never been about money. Or about self-respect or protecting her kid or finding someone who could show me the right way to be a man.

“Good luck, Renee.”

“Do you mean that?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do. Because whoever the fuck this guy is, you’re going to need it.”

When she moved to slap me again, I reacted instinctually. I caught her wrist, stopping her hand a few inches from my cheek.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “You’re hurting me. Let go of me right now.”

“What did you say?” I’d heard every word, and they’d stung so much more than if her hand had actually made contact. Because she’d told me to stop. She’d told a man to stop hurting her, probably for the first time in her life.

But the part that didn’t let go of me was that I was the man she was talking to, the one whose fingers were digging into her flesh, whose entire body was tense with the potential for violence, who couldn’t find a way to release her, whose hands were both fisted—one at my side and the other around her thin wrist.

I focused on relaxing, letting her go, coming back from a place I knew I’d end up if I ever let myself get too close.

I left Renee standing there. It wouldn’t be long before she wiped her eyes and went back to the table to lie about why I’d left. She’d probably go with something like me being upset that my father didn’t have a chance to see me succeed in something so worthwhile. She’d used that one before and, from what I’d heard, it worked pretty damn well.

The next time I saw the Curtises or Windhams, they’d tell me how proud my dad would’ve been of me. And I would be silent, unable to say anything to keep up the farce but knowing I had to. Not for myself. Not for my family, either. I kept my mouth shut for families who had all the reason in the world to be screwed up, but who actually loved and took care of each other.

If people found out about my parents or any of my mother’s rich, powerful, and abusive ex-husbands, it would probably suck for a while, but we’d live. The problem was that no one would donate money to a nonprofit named after an abusive husband and father. Run by his fucked-up kid. I hadn’t realized it until the name was too much a part of the foundation. If I changed it now, donations would plummet and people would want to know why Bennett’s kid didn’t want his name attached to it anymore. They’d find out why because people care about that kind of shit. It’s entertaining.

So I’d pay people to keep quiet about my fuck-ups and I’d keep my mouth closed until I found somewhere to get drunk and get laid and forget everything for a little while. All things I was good at. The only things I was good at.

Since Lane was in the driver’s seat, I got in the passenger side. “I shouldn’t have brought you.”

She shrugged. “Aside from not knowing what I was actually getting into or understanding whatever just happened between you and your mom, I thought it was great. I had some fancy water and a piece of bread. And…” She waited until I stopped staring at my hands and looked at her.

“And what?”

“That champagne was really, really good,” she said. “Thanks.”

I should’ve thanked her. “We left before the check came, so it was someone else’s treat.” Although, knowing Renee, she’d talk the restaurant into sending me a bill.

“What now?” she asked.

“Normally after I spend time with Renee, I get loaded and fuck someone to take my mind off it. You interested in doing either or both of those things with me?”

“Let’s start with the drink.”

“I guess I’m coming out of the closet today after all. Take me to the nearest bar.” This was the first time I didn’t want to get her naked. Renee would taint it somehow, and even though sex with Lane wouldn’t be emotional, I didn’t want to use her to forget something shitty. I wanted to remember her for something great.