Page 17

I nod, stopping under a parking lot light so she can still see my face. “Yeah. Should be an okay game.”
“I know you’ve been putting in hours of prep. I’m sure you’re gonna be amazing, as usual. I’ll be watching.” Her lips pull into a fake pout. “Though I wish I could be there in person. I want to give my boy a hug.”
Leaning back against the post, I cross my ankles and remind her, “Your boy’s twenty-one. He doesn’t need hugs from his mommy anymore.”
“That’s a complete fallacy. I don’t care how old you are. I will always hug you. You’ll always be my boy.”
“Mom.” I wince.
“So, are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”
“I’ve got a game.”
“Well, aren’t you getting a few days off after that? Or over Christmas? It’d be great to have you back for a few nights.”
“I don’t know. I?—”
“Seriously?” And the douche has arrived. His face pops up behind Mom’s, and my entire system goes on high alert. “Your mom is missing you like crazy, and you can’t commit to a few nights. Come on, Carson. It’s the least you can do.”
“It’s okay, Johnson.” Mom tries to appease him like she always does.
“I just don’t think it’s fair.” His voice softens when he’s speaking to her. “Don’t let him be selfish.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I can hear you, right?”
“I’m hoping you can.” Johnson’s bright eyes flash at the camera. “It’s bad enough that you didn’t pick a school in California. We had all your options lined up, but no, you had to go and move to Colorado, just so you could be closer to?—”
“Watch it,” I warn him.
He huffs and shakes his head. “Your mother loves you. She does everything for you, and you give nothing back in return. That man you think is so great doesn’t give a shit about you.”
“Johnny.” Mom gives him a desperate look, but it’s too late. He’s crossed a line, and everybody fucking knows it.
Anger boils hot and fast, spiking inside me until I let out a harsh growl. “Don’t talk trash about my dad. You don’t say a fucking word!”
Closing his eyes, Johnson takes in a breath like he’s summoning some kind of inner calm, but fuck that!
“You don’t know him,” I seethe.
“I don’t want to know him. The guy’s a criminal.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Carson, please.” Mom’s desperate look is now on me, but I can’t let her shithead of a husband get away with this.
“Fuck you, Johnson!” I spit out his name, hating every syllable of it.
“Fuck me?” He points at himself. “Fuck me? The guy who supported you through your shitty teenage years. The one who’s paying for your college education. You think I’m the bad guy here? I didn’t murder someone. I’m not rotting in prison because I got sentenced to life!”
He didn’t get fucking life! Asshole!
I grip my phone tighter, seconds away from smashing it on the ground.
“I’ve been nothing but supportive of you, you little shit! And you can’t even commit to coming home and visiting your mother. This woman has sacrificed everything for you.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I mutter, then internally cringe when I see Mom’s expression crumple.
But I’m not taking it back.