Page 8 of Never You

To burst her perfect bubble.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Bodi looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just surprised.” I shrug. “Normally, nothing can make her fall out of line.”

“You mean, nothingyouhave ever tried made her fall out of line.”

I snicker, bringing my glass to my lips. “Yeah, that too.”

“Your mother called me.”

I choke on my bourbon, my gut tightening at Bodi’s words.

“My mother?” I almost sprain my neck facing him.

This can’t be good.

He nods, agreeing, then moves his glass to his lips with a big smirk, though I’m not sure what’s funny about my mother calling. She only calls if she’s pissed, or she needs something. Usually, both.

“What the fuck? Why?” I don’t have a very warm bond with my mother. She mostly annoys the shit out of me because she wantsto control every single thing in my life. Not because she is the caring, loving kind; you know, the kind of mother that waits for you when you get out of school with cookies and milk. Or even the kind that sits in the front row of the school play.

No, being the perfect politician’s wife, Kathleen Jensen, nothing matters more than her status. She won’t even let her baby boy stain that. She actually said that to my face more than once. And she still couldn’t understand why she had an eight-year-old with uncontrollable anger issues.

Go figure.

“Because you won’t pick up the goddamn phone,” he scolds as his brows knit together.

“There is a very good reason for that,” I start, then pause for a brief moment. “I’m avoiding her.”

I can’t ignore my mother forever, but I’ve been doing a great job of it for the last two weeks.

“Yeah, well, so was I. But somehow, she was coming through my phone anyway.”

“Fuck, rather you than me,” I mutter, turning my gaze back to my glass.

“You are such a good friend—asshole.”

“Hey, you are my best friend. I would kill for you.” I offer him a dramatic look as he glares at me, unimpressed. “I’d die for you. But when it comes to Kathleen Jensen? It's every man for himself. Just ask my brother. I learned these tactics from him.”

“Great, next time I’ll stay home when your parents throw another elite party or some shit they are forcing you to attend.”

I snap my head toward his, gaping. He replies with a satisfied grin, successfully cornering me. There is only one thing worse than having to attend my parents' official functions and that’s attending them without my best friend talking shit about everyone who passes by.

“You’re right, I am an asshole. Please don’t leave me.” I pout.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “You didn’t tell me your old man is running for governor.”

I sigh with a dismissive shrug. “Why do you think I’m avoiding my mother?”

When my mother told me my dad was planning to run for governor, I knew a whole list of demands was about to be fired upon me. They allowed me to become an NHL-player, but they’d never allow me to stray further than that.

I can be the rebel out of their three children, but only if it doesn’t jeopardize my father’s political career. In interviews, they are asked about my career and answer the questions with a proud voice. But really, they mostly care about where I live, how I live, and who I’m dating, to make sure their perfect picture stays intact.

Ordering another bourbon to numb my senses, I search his face. “What did she want, anyway?”

“To ask when you will propose to Emily,” Bodi calmly answers like he’s asking me to take the trash out.

Hairs stand up on the back of my neck, panic gripping my heart and a lump forming in the back of my throat as I watch the face of my girlfriend flash before my eyes. She’s hot. She’s sweet.Sometimes. My mom loves her. She fits the perfect picture.

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