Page 83 of Tech

Dad snaps, “I can’t take being without my wife any longer, Carol! Fuck, you won’t even go on the back of my bike! Have you any idea what that does to a biker, huh?” Momma huffs before turning round, and Dad states, “I swear to fucking God, Carol, if you shut that door, I’ll break it down!”

I roll my eyes—yep, I definitely got my possessiveness from my father, too.

Momma snorts, grabs two suitcases, and wheels them into the hallway, and I smile.

She turns to my father, who has frozen at the sight of the bags.

“If you brought your bike, how could I bring my things home…because I’m ready, my darling,” she rasps with tears in her eyes.

I physically relax, murmuring, "Thank fucking fuck...." because she’s coming home, finally.

Dad sniffs, then storms toward her, gripping her hips and lifting her. Momma wraps her legs around his waist and instantly takes his lips, while I scrunch my nose and gag.

“Yeah, as happy as I am Momma is finally coming home; I really don’t fucking want to see this,” I mumble and walk over to grab Momma’s bags before heading back to the stairs. I state loudly, “I’ll see you both downstairs.”

They don’t answer me, and I don’t expect them to. This has been a long time coming. I know Momma has been struggling for months without my father because, let’s face it, as soon as Nina popped up like an ugly weed, my father checked out of his marriage, blaming Momma.

Let’s just hope my father continues to grovel after she’s moved back home because she’s not returning to this dump. I won't allow her, even if it means she goes back to not wanting to speak to me again, just like she most likely would have tonight when she got her eviction notice.

I'm her son, she'll forgive me as always, and besides, I need her safe.

I shove Momma’s bags in my father’s truck, and climb in the back, waiting for my parents to finish their make-out session.

I shiver in disgust….

Forty minutes later, after my parents cuddled because, yes that’s what I’m calling it—I don’t give a shit that her hair was a mess, and I don’t give a shit my father looked like he was floating on air, they were cuddling—we arrive at Brook’s practice.

We’re off to have lunch together, and tonight, we’re having dinner with her parents.

It’s something we try to do, and now that Momma and Brook are close, they kind of demand it at least three or four times a week, which I never thought I’d see the day, though I have determined to call Momma every day, and see her as much as I can.

I know she fucked up with her decisions to try and protect but what I did was out of order. I’ll never fucking lay a finger on her again and will forever make it up to her, my father too….

I climb out of the truck, my parents following, looking like loved-up teenagers, and walk into Brook’s practice, which is empty. There is only her receptionist, Gracie, here.

“I’ll go get Brook,” I say to my parents, passing Gracie, who quickly grabs my arm.

I raise a brow at her as her grip tightens, and she stutters, “B-Brook, uh, went to her parents….”

I tilt my head at her. Her face is pale, and she’s not making eye contact, yet her grip on my arm doesn’t lessen, and instantly, I know Brook is in trouble, and this bitch is partly the cause of it.

“Dad,” I say.

“Yeah, son,” he replies with an edge in his voice, also picking up on Gracie’s vibe.

“Do me a favor and grab this bitch….”

Gracie gasps, her hand dropping as she steps back, but she soon screeches when my father grabs her.

As soon as she’s restrained, I rush to Brook’s office but freeze in her doorway, seeing her phone and bag on the floor, covered in blood….

Fuck, no.

“No!” Momma screams, seeing the mess. I rush around my girl’s desk, ignoring the blood there, and wake her screen from sleep mode. I click on her CCTV footage and load it from seven-thirty this morning. Momma stands behind me as we watch my girl enter her office; we watch her mumble, reading the paper, then smile, reading her phone.

Momma sobs. “That’s when we were messaging. I sent her pics of clothes for boys, but she said it could be a girl, so I sent her some pics of dresses….”

My palms sweat, my heart racing at the thought of the baby as we watch my girl take a big gulp of water, and then roughly five minutes later, she gets drowsy, her water obviously drugged by Gracie, and she falls face first onto her desk, her head hitting her letter opener, causing blood to pour from a wound on her head. Seconds later, her office door opens and….

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