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He pinched the bridge of his nose. What did he know about babies? Faking it wasn’t fooling anyone, particularly him. He didn’t know what the hell to do. Mia would know babies didn’t get pink guns of the building block variety. She’d know how to turn a pile of pastel plastic into something girly and appropriate like… he had no idea.
The phone rang again, and he looked at the screen. “What do you want, Cash?”
“Three times. You made me call three times before you picked up the phone. You’re acting like a chick.”
“Maybe I was on the shitter.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I think you’re all bullshit. I talked with Judith. She’ll be there in ten minutes. You and I are going out. Make yourself reasonably presentable.”
Winters dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck that. And since when do you and my mom chat?”
“The world’s conspiring against you, bro.” Cash chuckled and hung up.
Winters returned to making large stacks of blocks. Pink skyscrapers or were they pink bridges? Pink sticks. Straight lines were the only things he could fathom that weren’t based on violence.
Winters cracked his neck, snagged Clara, and walked into his room, ignoring the few items of Mia’s on his dresser. He shimmied out of pajama pants and into jeans and a shirt.
Coffee. That was next on the list of things to do before they arrived. It might be the only way he could survive. He rounded into the kitchen and saw two vehicles traveling up the driveway. His mother, followed by Cash. This wasn’t what he needed.
Winters held Clara in front of him, at arm’s length. “This is going to suck.”
He poured a cup of coffee and watched out the window. His mom and Cash stood out there, chatting like a couple of good old boys. He downed the coffee in few blistering swallows and poured another cup.
They walked into the kitchen, both staring with the same disapproval.
“Dude, you’ve got to get out of the house. You look like shit.”
“Watch your mouth around the baby.” His mother reprimanded Cash.
“Sorry, J. My bad.”
J?Cashwas past first names and onto nicknames with his mom? In what world was this happening?
“Colby, I’ll take Clara for the afternoon.”
“Grab your favorite gun.” Cash rummaged through his pantry. “Grab more than one. You might need ‘em.”
Winters tore open a box of Dots and dumped in a jaw-full. Cash snacked out of various containers in the cabinet, and Winters’s mom took Clara into the living room.
“By all means, Cash, help yourself. Where we going anyway?” He threw in another handful of candy.
Cash chewed and talked, mouth wide open. “You’re going to lose your boyish figure eating shit like that.”
“Says the man who just housed a sleeve of crackers.”
“I burn carbs like you cry over girls.”
“Watch yourself, Cash. I’ll leave you in a puddle of your own blood.”
“Nah. You’d be too worried about Clara getting in it. Move your ass. We’ve got places to go.” He motioned to a box of cookies. “I’m taking these. I’ll meet you in the truck.”
Winters took two stairs at a time to his weapons stash, unlocked the safe, and selected a handgun and rifle. As he headed back down, his mom cleared her throat. Twice.
“I’m glad you’re getting out of the house.”
He grumbled. “I’m not.”
“That’s precisely my reasoning. You need to see different walls. You’re a mess.”