Page 87 of Beneath the Stain

Mackey stared at the text, surprised.

It’s nice to know I’m not the only spoiled child in this relationship, he texted, feeling a little bit superior.

Silence, silence, silence….

He broke you.

You fixed me. Doesn’t that mean you win?

I didn’t fix you. YOU fixed you. I just kept booting you in the ass until you made that work.

Or clocking me in the jaw.He laughed. God, that had been awesome.

Go to bed, Mackey.

After I write the song down.

Yeah, fine. Do that. It’s a good one.

Wait until you hear the riff.

SOALLin all, Mackey was doing pretty good. Even the meeting with his mother didn’t suck too badly.

For one thing, she was dressed pretty. Shelia must have taken her around to the fancy boutique shops, because she was wearing a little column skirt that went right to her knees and a matching tank top/jacket thing. Her hair was done up nice, in one of those chignon doo-dads, and she had earrings that matched her outfit.

Just seeing her made him smile.

“You look real nice,” he said, grinning, as she and the others walked uncertainly into the big visiting room.

She ran up to him and hugged him, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist like wire. She was the one person besides Shelia who was shorter than he was—but not by much.

“You look tired,” she said, and he smiled gamely.

“Tired, but I’m not in tears. Hey, Trav’ll tell you that’s an improvement.”

Heather Sanders looked over her shoulder at the guy Mackey was starting to dream about. “He’s the one who told Shelia and the boys to take me shopping.” She grinned, suddenly twenty years old, and held her arms over her head as she pirouetted.

Kell was at her side in a minute, wrapping his big arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. “You look good, Mom. Shelia and the twins did you up nice.”

Mom looked over at Shelia and smiled tentatively, and was greeted by a real stunner from Shelia. Mackey figured that maybe the little threesome would do just fine.

And that was it. The lot of them looked at each other awkwardly for a minute, and for the life of him, Mackey couldn’t think of a damned thing to say.

Until Blake walked by, looking wistfully into the visiting room.

“Blake!” Mackey called desperately, grabbing the guy practically by his collar. “Man, come here and meet our mom. Give her an hour and she’ll be your mom too.”

Trav sidled over to him while Blake and Kell were doing the back-pounding hug thing and murmured, “I saw that,” looking at Mackey grimly.

“What am I supposed to say?” Mackey grumped. “Hi, Mom, I’m a fuckup, love me anyway?”

Trav pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Start with that.”

Mackey didn’t look away from him. Short auburn hair, sepia eyes, lantern jaw, chiseled chin, broken nose—and lean lips that would look better swollen with kissing, and cheeks that would probably leave stubble burn on Mackey’s neck. “It’s like when we’re texting, I think of you and IthinkI know what you look like, but Iseeyou, and you’re even better. How does that happen?”

Trav’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “Same way I think you look good with your hair grown out so it’s almost all brown and big shadows under your eyes. It’s that whole tenderness thing kicking in—happens when people like each other.”

Mackey grunted. “That’s lame,” he said, not really meaning it but not having anything else to add. “It’sjustlike coke. You use it so you want it so you don’t have the feeling of it going away. I see you so I want to see you so I don’t have the feeling of you….”