Page 31 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)
I choke out a laugh. “Wait, seriously?” I ask again, because Trey’s face has remained impassive. “You want to take me home to your mother?”
“Why not? She already knows about you, already offered a standing invitation since she has never gotten to meet any of my partners before and is very curious, and she hated that I was only able to stay for a day last visit. We could leave tonight, stay through Saturday, come back early enough on Sunday that you will have plenty of time to decompress at home before your fellowship starts. It’s a small town, with friendly neighbors, and I believe the local concert in the park is this Friday and Saturday night.
You can hear the music from my mother’s front yard.
The neighbors tend to congregate together, grill, share beer.
Very American gothic, but if that is too rustic for you—”
“That actually sounds amazing. You sure it would be okay so last minute?”
“My mother will be over the moon.”
“And, um… would it be okay and not too weirdly pathetic if I pack a couple plushies into my suitcase?” I hug them in my arms a little tighter as I snuggle against Trey.
I may not let them watch us get down and dirty, or any self-love, but I am otherwise never wanting them out of my sight again.
I might even keep them in my locker at work.
“Perfectly okay,” he rumbles and kisses the side of my hair. Then my scar. “And not weird or pathetic at all. Anything for my good boy .”
I much prefer hearing Trey say that to Doctor Aldrin. “Thanks, Daddy.”
He takes out his phone to start booking flights but never stops holding me.
If I hadn’t met Trey, I still wouldn’t be with Curtis, and Noah still would have died today. But I’d be here now dealing with this alone, instead of feeling like I might be okay after some R&R with someone I really, really like and know I can rely on.
With someone I really like and his mother. But that’s not too weird.
Right?
What was I thinking agreeing to meet my still very new boyfriend’s mother after only three and a half weeks?
My very new serial killer boyfriend’s mother.
It made sense in my head, especially with Trey having so many frequent flier miles to throw around from his work that I didn’t feel weird about him covering my ticket.
It felt right about up until we got into the rideshare to head to his mother’s house.
She apparently offered to pick us up—which she always does for him alone—but he refused, saying especially in this case, he didn’t want me meeting her for the first time through rearview mirror glances. Which was a relief.
Only now I have the entire drive from the airport to agonize over being here.
Trey’s arm around my shoulders helps, as does the knowledge that Zappy and Doctor Hoot are in my carryon.
“Hello, Mother.” Trey greets her with a warm hug when she meets us at the door.
She is lovely, and I can definitely see the resemblance, but while she fixes me with an intense stare, there is a warmth to her that Trey… lacks? Something I don’t think I would have noticed if similar features weren’t displaying similar emotions so differently.
She hugs me too.
“It is so good to meet you, Walker.”
“You too, Ms. Fisher.”
“Lois, please. And what a handsome young man you are.” She holds me out in front of her after releasing me with a pleased appraisal. “Not that I’m surprised. My Trey has elegant taste.”
“I wouldn’t call myself elegant.” I’m wearing my usual casualwear of a T-shirt and jeans, but my nicest, newest jeans, and a T-shirt with a stylish design on it, not one with a silly saying like my “I like people (under general anesthesia)” shirt.
“Oh hush. You are adorable.” Lois grabs hold of both of our suitcases. Trey warned me to let her wheel them into the house. “So, what spurred this impromptu trip?”
“Trey didn’t, um, say?” I glance at him as we cross the threshold into the house, and Trey closes the door behind us.
It's charmingly minimalist but not in that stark everything needs to be neutral sort of way.
The living room walls are sage with matching furniture and marigold accents, making the place feel like a cozy country cottage.
“It didn’t feel it was my place to explain,” Trey answers.
Lois looks back at us from where she leaves our luggage by the stairs, patiently waiting for me to elaborate—if I want to.
I know I could choose to say I’d rather not go into detail, but Lois’s warmth, the warm hug of this place too that is such an echo of her, and an echo of Trey in the subtler ways he expresses himself, makes me want to.
“It’s okay. If I try to pretend like it didn’t happen, it’s not going to help me any,” I say first to Trey, and then look at Lois. “I lost a patient today.”
She immediately hugs me again, so suddenly that I’m too stunned at first to wrap my arms around her in return. “I am so sorry, dear. No one knows how difficult that can be better than someone else in the field.”
“That’s right. I forgot you’re a nurse.” I lift my arms finally to squeeze her back.
It doesn’t need to be someone who gets it to offer comfort in times like this, but damn, does it help.
“He wasn’t even my patient technically, but I got close to him while shadowing my mentor.
He was too young to go, and I kind of needed to be anywhere but home. ”
“I understand.” She squeezes a little tighter, much tighter than when greeting me, and lingers on the hug longer before letting me go.
“And while I wish it was for better reasons, I am glad to have you here.” She pats my cheek, and it just happens to be the one with my scar.
I can tell she notices it because she pats it again but a little gentler.
Trey said she doesn’t know about his secret side profession, but does she know how we met?
“Trey told me quite a bit about you last time.”
Yep, I think she does.
“ But now I want to hear from you. Tell me about this fellowship of yours.”
I do, while we sit down for a late dinner, already prepared for us.
Given some of Lois’s responses, I know Trey really did tell her quite a bit about me already, which is…
weirdly sweet. Surprising, but sweet in a way that helps me feel better again and dry the sting of tears that had threatened to return, even more so than how amazing Lois’s truffle risotto is.
She adds bacon, mushrooms, and sage sausage to make it a main course and she made a simple spinach and tomato salad with homemade vinaigrette. The tomatoes were from her own garden, all as home cooking as you please. Trey clearly learned his good taste in food from her.
After dinner, since it is late, given the timing of our flight, we sip on the remainders of the wine we had with the meal and listen to the record player from the porch—at the very same table Trey bought for our fourth date, I discover.
He even sent his mother the fairy lights, which she hung from the porch too.
Lois had a whole lineup of records waiting for us, or possibly planned for herself anyway, to highlight the bands that will be playing at this summer concert tomorrow and Saturday.
It’s rock night tomorrow with Foreigner headlining, and country the next night with names I don’t recognize.
I like country music fine but I do not know who might be a draw in that genre.
Regardless of who we’re listening to, however, the evening is pretty much perfect.
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of similar summer nights at home with your family,” Lois says, while we’re lounging, Trey and I at the table and Lois on the porch swing.
“Not really?” I say it way too much like a question, which just begs for explanation.
“Don’t get me wrong, my family is great.
Supportive parents. Two younger siblings, one a high school science teacher, and one in finance.
Nothing to complain about. I just never felt all that close with any of them.
I wish I could say why, because I envy how easily Trey talks about you, missing you when he’s not here, and how important you are in his life.
With my family, I enjoy being around them when I am around them, but when I’m not…
they just aren’t on my mind. It kind of makes me feel guilty. ”
“Oh, honey, don’t feel that way.” Lois leans forward to place a hand on my knee, since my chair is nearest to her.
“It doesn’t mean you don’t love them, but people can love family who are nothing but terrible to them too.
It’s a different sort of love when you choose who you want to be around because they stir something in you that no one else can.
We should all have the freedom to choose who we want to be around and who we don’t.
You shouldn’t ever feel guilty about that. ”
“That’s, um… wow,” I say, and it’s in that moment that I remember she killed her husband.
I know she doesn’t feel guilty about it, even knowing she doesn’t know that I know about it. She shouldn’t have to feel guilty. She should never have to feel guilty about ridding the world of someone awful to protect someone who deserves to be here. Who deserved to grow up happy and loved.
Right?
Trey startles me by reaching over to brush a tear from my cheek.
“S-sorry!” I stutter a little and sniffle back more tears. “I don’t know why that’s making me all weepy all of a sudden.” I wipe my eyes in the wake of Trey’s help.
Lois’s hand is still on my knee, and she squeezes as supportively as she hugged me earlier.
“Maybe it’s just something you needed to hear.
But now I’m the one who feels guilty, because I need to go to bed.
” She pats my knee and stands. We stand with her, like good polite boys should.
“I have an early shift tomorrow, but only until lunchtime. You boys stay up as late as you want.” She kisses Trey’s cheek, but me she hugs.
I sink into it and let her hold me for as long as she wants, because it seems I need it.