Page 20 of Sin for You

My mother, calling in her usual state, was the last thing I needed. “What do you want?” I said, thrusting my fingers through my hair.

“Don’t be like that,” she said. “You’re my boy, my only baby.”

Fucking hell.

“How much have you had to drink?” I muttered. “You eaten today?”

She was an alcoholic, a barely functioning one, and had been as long as I could remember. But it got worse after my father left, which was why my grandmother took me away from her before Child Protective Services could.

“I’ve eaten.”

I heard someone say something in the background. “Wayne’s back?”

“Of course he is. He’s my husband,” she said, all the softness leaving her voice.

Wayne entered the picture after I was gone, was as bad as she was, and an asshole to boot. They broke up and got back together every other week. But for some fucked-up reason my mother loved him. Probably because he was her enabler; they encouraged each other.

“Look, baby, we need a little help with the rent this month. Wayne got laid off and you know I can’t work with my back—”

“How much?” I bit out, anger rising inside me, helplessness, the same way I’d felt my whole life when it came to my mother.

“A thousand.”

“What? That’s a hell of a lot more than just help, Ma.”

I heard Wayne in the background again. She had me on speakerphone—she always did—so the weaselly asshole could tell her what to say.

“You were right, Logan,” she said suddenly. “I haven’t eaten. Things have been tight around here—”

“More like you already drank your money.”

I hadn’t heard from her in two months. The only time she called was when she wanted something. I wasn’t sure why it still surprised me, why it still stung so much.

“No, I promise we didn’t. You’ve got that bar now; you can’t be hard up for cash, baby boy. Please, will you help your mom out?”

If she knew I’d inherited money all those years ago, she would’ve been on my doorstep with her hand out within days.

“Only if you use it to pay rent and get food. It’s not for gin, you hear me?”

“Don’t fucking tell us what to do—” Wayne started.

“Hush, Wayne,” my mother bit out. “So you’ll do it?”

I worked at cooling down, breathing in and out slow and steady. It didn’t work. “I’ll transfer it tonight.”

“Thank you, Logan—”

I disconnected, cutting her off, and tossed the phone on the table in front of me. How was it that she could still get to me after all these years? Why did I care that she used me? That she used what I gave her to get wasted?

Why the fuck did I still care about her at all?

A warm hand landed on my back, and I jolted. Shit, how had I forgotten that Quinn was behind me? But then my mother could fuck me up like no one else with just one call.

“Bull?”

I shook my head, because my vocal cords were too tight to work, especially with Quinn’s hand on me and the warmth of her skin soaking through my shirt. I felt her fingers curl into the fabric as she moved around so she was standing in front of me.

“Bull?”