Page 14 of Clayton (Bourbon & Blood #2)

“That’s funny, because you haven’t paid taxes on it over two years,” I tell him. “I have proof of that, in case you’re wondering. I’ve got proof of a lot of things that can make your life a lot less cushy and your social calendar a lot less full. I’ll use everything I’ve got, too.”

Samuel laughs at that. “I know you’re not threatening me, boy. You don’t have the balls for it.”

Quentin hid the guns when he came over to check on Mia.

It’s a damn good thing I don’t know where.

“You’d be surprised what I have the balls to do.

Annalee is coming over to stay with Mama, and you are getting the hell out.

If you don’t, I’ll tell Erica all about the little jaunt to Los Cabos that you have planned…

I’ll also tell her about the younger, fresher model you have lined up to take her place. ”

Samuel’s gaze hardens. He’s never been one to take well to someone else having the power. “I know you’re not spying on me,” he says. “You’re not that goddamn stupid.”

I laugh. “As crooked as you are, I’d be stupid not to. Get out. If I have to tell you again, I’ll throw you out.”

“You’ll regret crossing me, Clayton. I promise you that much. I can make your life hell, and if you think being my son affords you any sort of protection or leeway, you’re wrong,” he warns.

“The only thing being your son ever afforded me was the mistrust of others…well-founded since I’ve discovered I can be just as crooked as you,” I reply. “I won’t hesitate to throw you bodily from this house. If you happen to snap your neck in the process—well, accidents, happen, don’t they? ”

He gets up and moves toward the door, “For the record, I’m leaving because I want to…not because of your threats.”

“I don’t care why you go, as long as you do.”

When Samuel is gone, I walk into the other room to check on Mama. I don’t know how long she’s been lying on her side, but I’m pretty sure it’s been too long. Using the underpad beneath her, I shift her onto her other side and prop a pillow beneath her. Her hand falls onto mine.

For just a moment, I hold on to it.

“I’m trying, Mama. I promise you, if it’s the last thing I do, I will get that son of a bitch out of all of our lives.”

There’s the faintest tremor in her hand. I freeze, my eyes glued to her face. There’s nothing, no indication that she’s hearing or responding, but her hand moves again in mine, just the slightest flexing of her finger.

I can’t breathe. “Mama, please, just one more time. Let me know you’re doing that on purpose.”

I wait for what seems like an hour, but it’s only minutes.

I wait until I hear the excited chatter of Emma Grace running inside and Annalee moving behind her, urging her to be quiet.

Mama hasn’t moved again and I begin to question whether or not she really did it all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Annalee is standing in the doorway looking at me. I meet her gaze and it must have shown on my face. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I nod. If it happened, if it was real, it isn’t something I can tell anyone. Not yet. I need more info. More proof. I need something that doesn’t just make me look desperate and crazy.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

Emma Grace comes in, rushing past me. She climbs up into the chair beside Mama’s bed and opens one of her many books to read her a bedtime story.

The munchkin has been doing that since before she could read.

She used to just make it up. That’s something else I have to be grateful to Annalee for.

If it weren’t for her, I don’t know that it would have ever dawned on me to try and build a relationship between our child and a woman who could never respond to her, even if that woman was her grandmother.

I remember going to my own grandparents’ house.

I hadn’t really understood then about money, about those who have it and those who don’t.

But they’d had it in spades. Still, it had been a warmer and much more inviting place than home, at least when Samuel was present.

If Mama had responded, if there was something happening there, and Emma Grace could have that feeling of the complete and unconditional love of a grandparent, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to give it to her.

Turning back to Annalee, I say, “I need to get going. If this is as big as I think it could be, I can’t afford to piss them off by being late.”

I move toward the door, but as I start to brush past her, her hand catches mine.

She holds on to me for just a moment. It isn’t much, but God above, it feels good.

It feels like, for just a moment, we’re a team again.

Not fighting one another, not trying to hold on or let go. For that moment, we just are.

“Be careful,” she whispers.

“I will,” I promise. And as much as it hurts to do it, I pull away from her long enough to give Emma Grace a big hug and a loud kiss. “Be good while I’m gone. I’ll see you in a bit.”

ANNALEE

After Clayton leaves, I move over to Patricia’s bedside and look down at her.

I’ve spent a lot of time with her over the past few weeks, but because I’m not with her every day, I see things that others don’t.

The subtle tension in her features that tells me she’s there .

No, she’s not in full control yet, but something is happening.

Trapped in that shell, she’s waking up. And I have the distinct feeling that she just did something to let Clayton know that.

“Emma Grace, you can read to your grandma later. Can you go to the living room and watch TV?”

Emma Grace looks at me as if I’ve asked her to move a mountain. I raise my eyebrow at her, and she lets out a huffing breath accompanied by an eye roll. “Fine.”

When she’s gone, I look back at Patricia, and even though I know she won’t answer me, I have to ask. “What did you do, Patricia?”

Of course, there is no answer. I wasn’t expecting one, but I think it’s important to talk to her like she could answer.

“I know you’re in there and I know you’re hearing every word I say to you, so I’m going to be blunt. They need you. All of your children…right now , they need you. So whatever it takes, however hard you have to fight,” I urge. “Come back to them.”

There’s a slight fluttering of her eyelids, but they don’t open. Doctors would say it’s simply nerves, that it’s not a response, not an indication of awareness. Fuck ’em , I think. What do they know?

From one mother to another, I know that she knows they’re hurting. Nothing will convince me otherwise.

I settle back into the chair while Emma Grace watches television in the living room. I’ll get it out of him. Whatever she did, I’ll get it out of him and I’ll add it to the catalog of other things I’ve seen.

For the longest time, I’ve thought Patricia was misdiagnosed.

They said she was in a vegetative state, but I’ve been reading about Locked-In Syndrome and I can’t help but feel that’s what’s happening here.

Samuel hasn’t been exactly champing at the bit to have her re-evaluated.

In fact, that asshole has been pretty content to just let her rot here while he goes out and lives the high life.

Clayton will fix it. Somehow, I know he will. I just pray he doesn’t lose himself in the process.