Page 26 of Lucky's Trouble

“Colin?” Tinleigh asks.

“Rigger,” I clarify.

“Oh, right. The bestie.”

“Those two knuckleheads are the reason behind every gray hair on my head,” Mom says. “When they moved into their own apartment, I thought for sure they’d starve or get locked up or both.”

“And did they?”

“Well, they didn’t starve thanks to me stocking their freezer with leftovers, but I’ve bailed one or both out of jail more than once.”

“Really?”

“Just dumb kid stuff,” I explain. “I haven’t been inside in years.”

“Anyway,” Mom says. “I don’t worry too much about my girls, but I worry about this one every second of every day.”

Tinleigh’s brows bunch. “How do you feel about him being in the Sons?”

“His life is his own. That’s the hard part about being a parent. Naturally, you feel possession over the person you brought into this world, but that’s basic biology so parents won’t leave their young on the side of the road after their first sleepless night. The truth is, they’re autonomous beings. Our job is to teach and guide them. What they do with that is their choice. I raised an honest, loyal, kind son, and that’s what matters most.”

Tinleigh’s eyes gloss over as she pushes away from the table. “My stupid allergies. Excuse me a minute. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door on the right.” Mom points in the general direction.

“Be right back.” She gives us a tight smile before taking off toward the bathroom.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mom asks.

“I don’t think so.” I stand. “I should go check on her.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

TINLEIGH

Everything I ever wanted to hear growing up. I brace myself on the pedestal sink, willing the tears to go back to wherever the hell they came from. Lucky’s mom just said everything I ever wanted to hear from my own mom.

That I was enough.

That she trusted me.

That my life was my own.

Instead, I was constantly harped on about not falling into line, and it destroyed my confidence to the point where I’m now crying in a stranger’s bathroom after the most beautiful parental speech I’ve ever heard. This is just great.

Three knocks at the door have me standing upright and reaching for a tissue. Apparently, Lucky’s secret knock for Myla has transferred to me.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” I call out, dabbing the inner corners of my eyes so my liner doesn’t smudge.

The door opens, and Lucky steps in, shutting it behind him. Damn it. In my haste, I forgot to flip the lock.

“Lucky,” I scold. “I don’t want you in here.”

“What’s got you so upset?”

“Nothing. I told you, it’s allergies.” The lie is weak and pathetic, but I say it anyway.

He tips my chin up with a finger, forcing me to meet his stormy eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Now I’ll ask again, what’s wrong?”

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