Page 112 of We Are Yours

“Kraven, I’m sober. I’ve been sober for a while. You can talk to my sponsor! She’ll tell you.”

“I’m going to turn around now and leave you here.”

“Kraven, please…”

“Don’t follow me, or better yet, be back in ten,” I mocked.

With that, I spun and left, calling an Uber to come pick me up. An hour later, I was walking through the front door. It was early as hell, and all I wanted was a shower and to sleep in my own bed after I ate half the fridge. Between not sleeping and eating food that literally tasted like dog shit, I was run down.

Pitifully trying to block out the fact that Julius involved our mother in this mess.

My mess.

When we couldn’t find Joe, he resorted to finding our mother instead. As much as I hated it, I was free. Though having to deal with the fallout of Justin and now our mom were two things Julius more than likely wanted to murder me for. He kept his cool when he visited me with Mark. I was shocked that Julius had hired our own lawyer in the first place, but thankful nonetheless. Where he was getting the money to pay him crossed my mind more than once.

He’s the responsible one, yeah?

He wouldn’t involve himself in anything shady, not when he had the golden-boy image he was adamant on living up to. Before I could give it another thought, the garage door opened while I was warming up a plate of food, revealing the woman I least expected.

“Jesus, you’re like the gum on the bottom of my shoe.”

She briefly smirked, shutting the door behind her. “You think I don’t remember where the hide-a-key is?”

“Well,” I clarified, “we have been robbed a few times. We just thought it was Joe.”

She chuckled. “Still my funny boy.”

“I’m not laughing.”

She giggled, grabbing the food from my hand. “Here, let me do that for you.”

I let her take it, too exhausted to put up a fight. I think a part of me always expected her to come back at some point. I wasn’t waiting for her. I stopped waiting years ago. Seeing her there, in the kitchen, a place we spent a lot of our time when I was growing up, was quite a sight. She loved to cook, and I loved to watch.

Out of Julius and me, I was definitely the one closer to her. I wasn’t lying when I said Julius was a lot like her, and the subconscious part of me had a field day contemplating what the hell that meant.

She picked the perfect time to show up. I was too burned out from everything crashing and burning to give a shit. Or at least that was what I told myself as I sat at the kitchen island, drinking down the bottle of water in one long gulp.

She turned on the stove, grabbing bacon and eggs out of the fridge. My mind chose that moment to take me back to another place and time when I used to sit in this exact spot and watch her cook for me. It was one of the reasons I wasn’t there when Isla would cook. To avoid this memory right here—the one I was living as if nothing had changed in the past seven years.

I wanted to go off on her, truly I did, but I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She was who she was, and I didn’t believe for a second she was sober or had changed.

She’d danced this number before.

She knew the whole damn routine like the back of her hand.

This wasn’t the first time she went MIA. She and Joe loved going on benders and not being home for days at a time. This was just the first time she had vanished for years.

I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her, and I just needed to remember that. My flying off the handle would only let her know she was getting to me, and I refused to give her the satisfaction.

Fuck her.

“It’s like jail food in there.”

“You would know.”

She giggled again. “Have you been eating in there at all? You look famished.”

“What’s it to you?”