Page 206 of The Way I Hate Him
We did, and it was one of the best orgasms ever.
While I take out some napkins, Hayes opens the door to grab the pizza. I’m situating the napkins on the counter when I hear him say, “What the hell are you doing here?”
From the kitchen, I find him standing stiffly in the entryway, his hand gripping the door handle while he stares at an older woman wearing a pair of worn jeans and a faded long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair is a mixture of gray and brown, peppered heavier along her hairline. Deep wrinkles cover her face, especially around her mouth and her eyes . . . steely-gray eyes.
“Is that how you greet your mother?” the woman says as my jaw falls open.
This is Pam Farrow?
Wow.
I’ve never seen her. I’m not sure I was even born when she left Hayes to be with his grandma, and he sure as hell doesn’t have any pictures of her around, but now that I’m looking at her, I can see the slight resemblance.
Very slight.
“What do you want?” he asks, standing taller now. From where I’m standing, I can see the tension in his shoulders, and I know deep down that I need to be there for him. So I move away from the counter and walk up to him.
When I come into view, I see the change of look on her face, the surprise and almost . . . shock.
“Well, who do we have here?” she asks as I put my hand on Hayes’s back. He stiffens to my touch and pulls away.
“No one you need to be concerned with,” he answers.
“Is she your girlfriend or just another girl you’ve brought back to fuck?” She makes eye contact with me. “You’d be one of thousands.”
Hayes steps in front of me, blocking me from the view of his horrible mother. “Is there a purpose as to why you’re here?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” she says. “It would be nice if you let me in.”
“Whatever you have to say, you can say to me right here.”
She winces. “You know, that might not be what you want.” From her back pocket, she pulls out an envelope and smacks it against her palm. “This isn’t a front porch kind of conversation.”
I feel him tense even more before he steps to the side, pulling me with him. He lets her inside the house, and she walks in as if she owns it, chest puffed, a sadistic smile on her face. While she heads into the living room, Hayes pulls me to the side while shutting the door.
“You need to go home,” he says quietly so only I can hear him.
“What?” I ask. “Hayes, I’m not going to—”
“It’s not up for discussion,” he says in a deep, commanding tone. “Go home, Hattie.”
Caught off guard, I say, “But my birthday—”
“Hattie,” he says, his patience growing thin. “I said, go home. Don’t fucking argue with me.”
I wet my lips, my heart starting to crack. “But, what about our plans?”
He leans closer and says, “I’ll come to you when she leaves. Okay?”
That puts me at ease—only slightly—and I nod. “Okay.” I step in for a kiss, but he moves away from me and to my keys and purse. He hands them to me and says, “Put your shoes on outside.”
And before I even have a chance to respond, he shoves me out the front door to his porch and places my shoes on the pavement in front of me. I turn around to at least offer him an encouraging smile, but before I can, he shuts the door in my face.
What the hell just happened?
I slip my shoes on and walk out to my car, where I open the door and sit in the driver’s seat. Hands gripping the steering wheel, I stare out the front windshield. My pulse races, and my mind swirls.
Should I really leave?
