Page 25 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Chapter thirteen

TREY

“ H ello, Mother. It is so good to see you,” I say as I pull her in for a hug.

My mother, Lois Fisher, is a striking woman.

A fifty-year-old who looks ten years younger and far too fresh-faced to have an almost thirty-year-old son.

A bit of my jawline and narrow nose resemble hers, but she has an auburn tint to her shoulder-length hair, no grays—whether natural or with color touch-ups, I would never ask—and hazel eyes.

Since she is off from work today, she is wearing a stylish blouse and jeans.

She is always put together, even on days when she doesn’t need to leave the house.

Once, when I was still young, I asked her why, and she told me it made her feel the most like herself, that to don her “armor” helped her better face the day.

I suppose that is why I am always put together too.

“You look wonderful, sweetheart,” she says as she hangs onto our hug extra-long, since it has been a few months since I was able to visit.

The two-person table I purchased for my date with Walker is in transit to be added to Mother’s porch soon. I won’t mention it but will let it be a surprise.

She grabs my roller bag to pull it inside the house. I have long since learned to let her fuss and handle whatever she wishes, even if she hardly needs to bring in my luggage for me. “Are you sure you can only stay for a short visit, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry, Mother, but I lingered a few extra days on my last assignment and need to get on to the next one by tomorrow.” It was worth those extra days to have courted Walker.

It’s a shame he took the photo I kept that belonged to Curtis, but although I sensed something was amiss and realized the truth on the way to the airport, I find myself trusting, foolishly perhaps, that he will do the right thing and stay loyal to me. I will learn whether I am right soon enough.

He should be with the detective right now.

“Well, at least I have you for the day,” Mother says, leaving my roller bag beside the stairs and continuing into the kitchen, knowing I will obediently follow. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

The house is an older two-story, two-bedroom home. Nothing fancy but with warm pastoral charm and immaculately kept just like Mother herself.

She never made me take on her meticulous habits, mind you.

I did that on my own. She gave me free reign in most things and was always supportive of my decisions, from girlfriends to boyfriends to which college I went to.

She didn’t have to cajole or manipulate the direction of my life because I willingly would have always done my best to make her proud. And to keep her world safe.

The record player still sits in the living room, just like when I was a boy, and instead of having the radio on, she has a record playing softly as ambient background noise.

She’ll often forget to flip it, forget it’s on when a side finishes, and leave the player running, stalled, for hours, only to do it all over again when she finally notices and flips the record or switches to a new one.

Right now, it is playing Johnny Cash.

“So, tell me how things went in the city,” she says as she gets a pair of mugs down from the cabinets to serve us coffee at the kitchen island, where I instinctively take a seat. “What kept you there so long?”

“Hello, hello!” I am interrupted by a familiar neighbor letting herself in through the sliding glass door. “Trey! I didn’t know you would be home.”

“Hello, Mrs. Sheridan.” I slide back off my stool to accept the hug from her I know is inevitable. She is a nice enough sort and adores me and my mother, just a bit of a busybody.

Not a killable offence.

“I’m only in for the day,” I inform her.

“Coffee, Vivienne?” Mother asks.

“Oh, no thank you, Lois,” Mrs. Sheridan dismisses, as I return to the island, and she follows but does not take a seat.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude if you only have Trey for a short while.

Although Trey, my daughter Violet is also home right now.

She isn’t seeing anyone.” She bobs her eyebrows suggestively.

I am used to this from all of my mother’s neighbors. I have wisely never taken the bait. “Violet is lovely, Mrs. Sheridan, but not my type, I’m afraid.”

“My son isn’t seeing anyone either.”

I laugh. “I’m… actually seeing someone myself right now.”

My mother’s eyes snap to mine, which I anticipate, but she waits to say whatever must be bubbling beneath the surface of her feigned nonchalance.

“How wonderful!” Mrs. Sheridan replies amiably.

“Their gain and my kids’ loss. They could only be so lucky as to snag a catch like you.

I’ll leave you two be. I just popped in to remind you, Lois, of the food drive tomorrow, and to ask if you’d like to carpool.

My new hatchback makes unloading a breeze! ”

“That would be lovely, Vivienne, thank you. I’ll be over around nine.”

“Perfect! See you tomorrow. And don’t be a stranger, Trey.” She whirls around as swiftly and full of life as how she arrived and is out the sliding glass door into the backyard in moments.

Mother hands me my coffee and cradles hers with an eager lean over the island between us. “You’re seeing someone? Or was that just to get rid of Vivienne?”

“I am seeing someone.” I take a slow sip of coffee without elaboration.

“That was a fast turnaround from you telling me you weren’t not long ago.”

“The best surprises happen quickly.”

“ Trey ,” she calls me out on my teasing, because I am teasing.

I think Mother assumes I am lonely with my life on the road and no long-term relationships in my past. She has always been keen to see me taken care of when I’m not here for her to do it, but it seems I may have been waiting for someone I could take care of instead.

Mother rarely lets me take care of her, and if I ever pry into her love life, I am swiftly shut down.

That’s a road she has no interest in going down again, and one I never thought I’d go very far down either.

“Come on, who is this new lad or lass?” she presses. “Or as per usual, do I not get to hear about my son’s love life?”

“I don’t like to tell you about passing fancies, Mother. Why get you attached to the idea of someone you’ll never meet. But this one, well… he’s a doctor.”

“Oh?” She leans further over the island in anticipation to hear more.

Her smirking interest is infectious. I find myself wanting to share with her everything I’ve learned about Walker.

I’ve never been excited to tell her about someone I was dating before.

I only realize how long I must have rambled on when I glance over at the microwave clock and notice twenty minutes have gone by.

Mother is staring at me.

“What?”

“Sounds like this is already someone worthy of me meeting. I believe you just gushed.”

“I do not gush.”

“You don’t. But you did.”

I open my mouth to protest again but realize she is right. “Maybe because… Walker is worth gushing over.” Thinking of him prompts me to check my phone. I didn’t feel it vibrate in my pocket but he messaged me only a few minutes ago.

Walker: The detective knows you’re a person of interest, but he doesn’t have any evidence. I didn’t tell him anything. I was tempted, but I didn’t.

Trey: You didn’t show him the picture?

Walker: You knew I took it?

Trey: I trusted you. Thank you for choosing me again, Walker. I miss my good boy already.

Walker: I miss you too.

Walker: Daddy.

“Trey…” Mother’s singsong voice draws me up from my phone. “I have never seen you smile like that. This doctor must be something really special.”

“He is.” I pocket my phone again. Mother deserves my full attention. I can give it to Walker again soon enough. “I am planning on returning to see him after my next assignment.”

“Good.” She finally comes around the island to sit on the stool beside me.

“I like seeing this side of you. There’s a…

softness. I think you’re smitten. Infatuation can be like that, easing away your troubles and rounding out your sharp edges.

Just be sure he isn’t hiding anything too jagged himself.

” It is only on the end of the phrase that a touch of old—very old and buried deep—pain surfaces in the tone of her voice.

A little echo of memories long past of her jagged ex who had needed to be rounded out with blunt trauma to the head.

Oh, Mother. This time, the jagged one is me, but I aim my sharpness at those deserving.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, reaching over to place my hand atop hers.

I know the experience with Father is why she wants me with someone who can take care of me, and in a way Walker is by keeping my secret.

“More than anyone I have ever met, Walker feels like someone worthy of taking a chance on.”

“Then I’m glad,” she says, brightening again and shifting in her stool to better face me. “Now, tell me more about him.”

I do. Not everything, obviously. But enough to make me miss my good boy even more.

Trey: Still missing your Daddy?

Walker: More than I thought I would. When are you coming back into town?

Trey: I’m guessing three more days. I still have things to take care of here.

Like the awful stay-at-home nurse I discovered the day after I arrived in my new city, who is neglecting and stealing from her elderly patient.

I am an equal opportunity killer, after all, and she deserves what I have planned for her.

This one will be a bit trickier than usual, because I need to be sure someone discovers the patient before he is left alone for too long, and he will be left alone.

I can’t very well kill her inside the house with him there.

He doesn’t appear to have any family, or none close by, and terrible as the nurse is, she is the only thing keeping him fed and medicated.

When she doesn’t eat his food and take his meds for herself.