I kill the Charger’s engine and pull the latch on the door. Stepping out of the car, I glance around the quiet parking lot. A couple of the large security lights are burned out and the lot’s darker than it should be. Mom’s new townhouse isn’t in the best neighborhood, but at least she’s out of his house, and that makes her a million times safer by comparison.
Walking along the cracked sidewalk, I scan the address numbers nailed into the brick, to the right of each front door, and stop at 12B—Mom’s new place. I’m so fucking proud of her, this move was a long time coming. She should have left my drunken asshole of a father years ago—why she stayed so long, I’ll never understand. He beat the shit out of her…out of the both of us, for years. But, nine months ago was the last straw—when he put her in the hospital with a handful of broken ribs and a concussion. The police tried to track him down, but he skipped town. I begged her to file a restraining order and leave him. She agreed it was time to move out and start fresh, but didn’t want to get the courts involved, content that he was truly gone this time.
I press the doorbell and hear its faint chime inside, followed by Mom’s footsteps. I glance at my watch and notice it’s just after one in the morning. Why did she insist that I come over this late? What’s going on?
“Who is it?” Mom calls from the other side.
“It’s me, Mom.”
She turns the deadbolt and I can hear her sliding the chain off the latch. With a yank, she opens the door and smiles. “Thor,” she says with a sigh. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
She opens the door wider and I step inside, locking the deadbolt.
Mom stands in front of me, smiling from ear to ear like she’s won the lottery or something. “Ma? You okay?”
She stretches her arms out wide. “Come here. I just need a hug.”
I step into her arms and swallow her tiny, five-feet-four-inch frame with all of my six feet two inches. My height comes from his side of the family…the Kline traits dominating any of Mom’s Gilbert genes.
Mom rubs her hands up and down my back, squeezing me as tightly as she can. “So glad you’re here. Love you,” she mumbles against my chest.
I tighten my biceps, squeezing her closer. “Love you, too. But what’s so important that you needed me to come over in the middle of the night?” I break our hug to give her a sidelong glance. I know she has an ulterior motive, but hell if I know what it is.
“Can’t a mom just want her only son to stop by?” She gives my arm a squeeze.
“I know you, you’re up to something.” Walking over to her couch, I plop down and toe-off my boots; my feet are killing me.
“You’re right. I do need you to do something. I need some pictures hung.”
Pictures? I pull my eyebrows together. “I don’t think your neighbors would appreciate me driving nails into the walls in middle of the night. I could have come tomorrow and taken care of the pictures, Ma. What’s really going on?”
With a heavy sigh, she falls into the oversized armchair. She’s quiet for a moment, avoiding my eyes. When she does finally turn her gaze back on me, her eyes are shiny with fresh, unshed tears. “You got me.”
I sit up. “What is it?” Anger boils in my veins, and as much as I hate to acknowledge it, so does fear. For so long, it was fear of what he could do to the both of us, now it’s fear of what he can do to her. I can take care of myself. “Is he back? Did he come here? Did he hurt you?” We haven’t heard from him in nine months, but that doesn’t mean he won’t come back. He’s like a horrible disease you can’t get rid of.
Mom shakes her head and tries to wave away my panic. “No, it isn’t that. He hasn’t been here.”
Blowing out a heavy breath, I lean back on the couch, rubbing a hand over my close-cropped hair. If that man comes anywhere near her again, I will tear him a new asshole. Over my dead body will he ever hurt her again.
“You want some coffee?” she asks, standing, not waiting for my answer before heading down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen.
I heave myself off the couch, exhaustion washing over me. I’m so fucking tired, I could drink an entire pot of coffee and still fall asleep. “I guess,” I mumble, following her down the hall.
In the kitchen, Mom’s at the counter pouring water into the coffeemaker, her back to me. Pulling out one of the chairs, I flip it backward and straddle it, watching her. “It’s not the pictures. I can tell something’s up. Talk to me.”
She busies herself, measuring scoops of coffee grounds into a filter, ignoring my question. Flipping the lid closed, she presses the power button and the machine wheezes to life. I need to get her a new coffeemaker, one of those one-cup pod contraptions.
Mom turns around and joins me at the table. Sadness is etched on her face, extinguishing the light in her eyes and pulling her smile down. I reach across the table and clutch her tiny hand in mine. “Talk to me.”
Her eyes catch mine and she gives a closed mouth smile. “It’s stupid.”
“If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not stupid.”
She sighs heavily, shoulders slumping. “It’s so quiet here,” she says. “I’m not used to the quiet.”
I wish I understood what she meant. I treasure the quiet…crave it, actually. When I was younger, Dad’s noise sucked the life out of Mom and me, and now, with Mine Shaft booking bigger gigs, there’s a constant buzz in my ears, like I’ve stood to close to the speakers at a concert. It’s rare that I can escape to my quiet place. “Isn’t it nice to be able to hear your own thoughts for once?” And not get the shit beat out of you for having an opinion? That’s what I really want to say to her, but I’m not here to make her feel bad.
Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. “That’s just it. I went from living with my parents, right into a place with your dad. I’ve never been on my own, and to be honest, I’m scared. At least when I know you’re going to visit, I’ve got something to look forward to.”
“Being by yourself has got to be better than living with him.” I bite my lip, tasting blood, trying my damnedest to dial back the vitriol I want to spew. I hate that he still has an effect on her. Even when he isn’t around, he’s cinched around her neck like a goddamn noose.
“It is. I should have left him a long time ago.” She stands, her chair scraping against the worn linoleum. Turning around, she walks to the cabinet and pulls down two mugs and fills them. Two cups of coffee in hand, she returns to the table, the hint of a smile on her face. “Being alone is hard, too. But, I’ll adjust.” Sliding a cup across the table to me, she sips hers. “I’ve survived worse than loneliness and an apartment that makes weird noises in the middle of the night,” she laughs humorlessly.
“Ma”—I put my hand on hers, forcing her to look at me—“you are the strongest woman I know. And I’ll always be here for you.”
It breaks my heart to see her like this, what that man has done to her. There are no words.
She pulls her hand from beneath mine and sits back, nursing her coffee and grinning widely. “Enough about me and my shit. How was the concert tonight?”
“Good.” I nod. “Standing room only.”
“Look at my boy getting all famous!” she squeals while she shrugs her shoulders in rapid succession.
“I wouldn’t go that far. Hell, we can’t get a record label to give us the time of day.”
“But, your fans do, and that’s what counts, right?”
I take a swallow of my watered down coffee, recalling the screaming crowd that had packed into Mississippi Lights tonight. Our biggest gig yet. But it’s Harper’s round face and wild red curls that my brain zeros in on. Could she feel my eyes on her tonight? It seemed like she could. When our eyes locked for those brief seconds, everything around us fell away. It was just the two of us…fucking amazing. And her body. Damn. The sultry sway of her hips as she danced to the music was intoxicating. Won’t get that image out of my head for a long time, not that I’d want to.
Mom smacks my arm. “Thor?”
My eyes snap to hers and I’m pulled away from the Harper movie reel in my head. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Sorry. What’d you say?”
Mom’s eyes widen, stretching her lips upward into a sly grin. “What were you thinking about?” She points her index finger at me, circling it around. “I know you, Thorin, only a girl can put that look on your face. Do you have a new girlfriend?”
“Jesus. No, I don’t.” I bristle at the word “girlfriend.” Wrinkling my nose, I throw back a swallow of coffee.
“Oh! It is a girl! You always get like this.” Her hands beat a wild, circular path in front of my face.
I can’t hide anything from her. “Like what?”
“Like this.” Her hands move faster, making wider circles, as if that clarifies her meaning. “All defensive and brooding. Girls eat that shit up, don’t they?”
I look up at ceiling and roll my eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
Lowering my chin, I meet Mom’s enthusiastic stare and cave. “Yes. I met a girl.”
“Ahhhh!” She claps. “I knew it! It’s the brooding, gets ’em every time.”
I blow out a huge breath, my cheeks puffing. Telling her about Harper was a mistake. She is going to take this news and run with it. Tomorrow, Harper and I will be married. By Sunday, we’ll have a couple kids. “Relax, Ma. I didn’t propose. Hell, I don’t even have her number. Time to lay off the soap operas and Hallmark movies.”
Mom falls back in her chair like I’ve taken a pin to her balloon. “You can’t ask the lady out if you don’t have her number, Thor.”
I nod. “Thanks for that pro tip, but the ball’s in her court, she’s got my number.”
She bites her lip, working over this nugget of information. “Oh. Well, do you want her to call? What’s she like?”
Fuck yes, I want her to call, she’s sexy as hell. Curves that warrant a caution sign. A sassy, lopsided grin that dares a man to come closer. And let’s not forget about those deft fingers…I definitely want to find out what those can do. “Yeah, I really hope she calls. She’s beautiful. Curly, red hair. Petite. Pink cheeks. Ivory skin. Freckles.” I rattle off the mother-friendly list of Harper’s physical attributes.
“Sounds like she made quite an impression.” Mom wags her eyebrows.
You have no idea. I put the cup to my lips and finish off the cold, poor excuse for coffee.
“Then don’t ruin things with her. You aren’t getting any younger.”
I give her a dirty look, offended. “I’m only twenty-four.”
“Exactly. Don’t waste your youth and good looks, they won’t last forever. And you were already five years old by the time I was your age.”
I roll my eyes. I need a fucking cigarette. If there’s one person in the world that should want me to stay away from anything serious, it’s my mother. She should be first in line to shoot down any potential romances, not the one making a damn love connection. Jesus, and the thought of kids? That makes me want to vomit. No fucking way. I will not be responsible for screwing up a tiny human’s life.
Relationships aren’t my thing. Never have been. From the time girls hit my radar, I knew I wasn’t looking for more than just a short-lived good time. With my old man as a role model, I wanted no part of anything that resembled a relationship. One-night stands are easier…safer…no one gets hurt.
But dammit, Harper pops into my head. After a ninety-second conversation with her, I’m itching for a second date before I’ve even been on a first one. What is it about her that’s got me wanting more, tossing aside my strict one-night stand policy? Yeah, she’s different from the girls I usually hook up with, and it’s not because she’s deaf, there’s something else. I felt it when I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers while I was on stage. I don’t know what it is, but I’m willing to go on a thousand dates if it means I get to figure it out.