Page 82 of Sin for You

It was my mother.

And given my levels of self-loathing in that moment, she was exactly who I needed to talk to. If anyone would confirm what a waste of space I was, it was my mom. So instead of ignoring it, I answered.

“Missing me?” I reached over to the half-full bottle of Jack I spied under a seat, held it between my knees, and opened it with one hand.

There was a long silence. “You haven’t called in a while. I thought I should remind you that you have a mother,” she said, tone defensive.

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten, Ma. I remember every time I look at my bank statements and add up all those payments I send your way.”

“Logan, why are you being like this?” she said, faking shock and horror, pretending her feelings were injured. Pretending she had feelings at all. “I’m your mother, your family. Since when is it wrong to help family?”

“It’s not, and I’d give the shirt off my back to Cal or Dane any day of the week.”

More silence. “Where’s your damned loyalty? I brought you into this world—”

“And then you threw me away.”

“You were a difficult child and I was—”

“Drunk.”

There was a long pause. “You were demanding and ungrateful and I couldn’t take it anymore,” she hissed. “Unlovable is what you are. In the end, I couldn’t stand the goddamned sight of you.”

And there it was, exactly what I needed to hear. “I can always count on you to give me the truth, huh, Mom?”

She was quiet again. I’d shocked her, or she was regretting losing her temper, worried I’d cut her off. “You won’t stop sending us money, will you, Logan?”

Bingo. I laughed. “You may not be able to stomach the sight of me, but you like my money just fine.”

“You think you’re better than us? You’re drinking right now, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re talking. You’re no better than me. You’re alone and drunk right now, aren’t you, Bull?”

I swallowed painfully.

“You think I’m nothing? Take a look in the mirror, boy—”

I ended the call and stumbled to my feet. “Fuck.” I fisted my hair. “Fuck,” I roared again and tossed the bottle in my hand overboard.

Then I slumped back down because I had nowhere to go and there was nothing I could do.

Unlovable.

Sounded about right.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bull

So this was what death warmed up felt like.

My heart was beating somehow, the traitorous organ in my chest still pumping blood through my extremities even while the rest of me felt cold like a corpse.

I watched Quinn move through the bar, smiling, laughing with the other waitstaff, with the customers, and like every day she’d come into work for the last seven days since I came back from my extended fishing trip—okay, yeah, my fucking drunken pity party for one—I noticed the happy didn’t reach her eyes.

She’d cautiously smiled at me when she’d walked in that first day I was back, greeting me before her shift started, but not like she used to. There was a wariness there. She was probably afraid I’d suddenly drop to one knee and spontaneously propose to her.

No, she didn’t look at me like she had before.

Before I knew what it was like to hold her in my arms.