Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I’m not anti-relationship. I’ve just never found someone I cared to have one with. Not that I’ve never dated. I’ve seen someone for a few months here and there, but never had anything that felt serious. I’ve never met someone who made me want more, and James wouldn’t be that person either. I don’t have to know anything about him to know that outside of the way our kinks align, we would be way too different for anything more. It’s fun untangling all that rigidness within a scene, but I don’t know that it’s something I could handle all the time.
“Why do you keep busting my balls today?”
“Because you make it easy,” she teases. “And you’re the one who likes ball busting. Not me.”
I grin. “I really, really do.”
Han pretends to gag, and I laugh.
We get back to work, talking here and there but concentrating on the tasks at hand. I’m going down to working part-time at the shop since school starts tomorrow. I have no idea how I’ll make this work. I’ve been saving everything I possibly can, though, and between that, scholarships, and working at the shop when I can, I’ll find a way to make it happen.
After work, I make the thirty-minute drive—that’s actually close to an hour with traffic—out to Hampton. Dakota still lives here too—not in our mom’s house, but in town. I wanted to get away, even though I didn’t go far, just needing something, and Han did too. That’s how we ended up in Peyton.
Mom must see my lights pull into the driveway because she’s standing in the open doorway of the small three-bedroom, ranch-style home.
“Hey, you.” She smiles.
“Hey, Ma.”
“I made pot roast. It should be done.”
“How’d you know I’d come tonight?” She made one of my favorites.
“Because I know my boy.”
Yeah, she does. I kiss her forehead, and then the two of us go inside. My mom is a grocery-store manager. She’s worked there for twenty years, went from cashier, to department manager, to her newest position. No matter how long her workdays were, she always made sure we had home-cooked meals, even if as we got older, it was something we had to warm up.
Eventually, she taught Dakota and me to cook, wanting us to be “well rounded,” as she worded it, and to make sure that neither of us became the kind of men who wouldn’t chip in equally around the house when we settled down. Kota’s been dating the same woman for about six months now and seems serious about her, so I’m guessing it’ll be my younger brother who settles down first.
I go with her into the kitchen and grab potholders. “I’ll get it out of the oven.”
Mom nods, working on silverware and plates as I get the pan from the oven. “What’s your schedule the first semester?”
“There was an issue with one of my general ed credits transferring over. I need a history or political science credit, so I ended up with American National Government along with Fundamentals of Technical Drawing and Commercial Architectural Design.”
“Well, that sounds boring,” Mom teases.
“No shit.” Well, the political science class, at least.
I set the pan on the counter, pull off the top, and the savory scent of meat, potatoes, and garlic makes my stomach growl. She’s made green beans on the side, and we fill our plates, then sit down together.
We chat while eating, about halfway through the meal Mom says, “I’m so proud of you, Colton. You know that, right?”
I do. My father bailed when I was six and Kota four. I’d thought my dad was my best friend before he left. I remember mimicking him, trying to be like him. Now I look back and see he wasn’t a good man. He treated my mom badly, expected her to work full-time and run the house, doing all the work with us boys too. He’d seemed larger than life, but now I know he was nothing but a sham.
“I do,” I tell her.
“You’ve always taken the weight of this family on your shoulders. You’ve been such a little man since you were six—trying to take care of me and Dakota, being there for Han through her ups and downs. I’m so happy you’re finally doing something for yourself, and I’m sorry I wasn’t in a better position to help you with that before now.”
Reaching over, I take her hand. “You did the best with what you were given. Every happy memory Dakota and I have is because of you. We’re lucky to have you as a mom, and I’m doing just fine. Hell, I think it’s better to go to college later. Who can handle that shit at eighteen?”
“You could have. But thank you for always trying to make your mama feel better.” She gives my hand a squeeze before letting go. “Do you want me to pack you a lunch for tomorrow?”