Page 16 of Valley

My heart was beating fast, and my hands were shaking as I headed home. Thoughts of tomorrow were the only thing on my mind.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter Ten

“WHY ARE YOUwhistling so fucking early in the morning?”Player growled beside me, both of us reaching for coffee.

I shrugged, giving him a smile. “Just have a feeling it’s going to be a good day. Why is your grumpy ass up so early?”

He pointed over to where Randi was chatting with Scotch. “Ol’ lady has plans today,” he said, grabbing his coffee and heading over to join them. Randi was almost finished setting up her recovery house. She’d been so busy with it that I hardly saw her around. They were such an odd match, those two, but Player would kill anyone who tried to take her away from him.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the number before groaning internally. Not today. “Yeah,” I answered, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“Mom needs some things, and I can’t make it over there today,” my sister informed me. Trish was a few years older, and we took turns checking on our alcoholic mom. She had always been a drinker, but when Dad died of a heart attack in the arms of a sweet butt, it sent her over the edge. She lost her driver’s license years ago, and we took the car away to stop her from driving drunk.

“Are you sure you can’t go over?” I asked, not wanting Mom to ruin my vibe today.

“I’ve done it the last three times, Jarrod,” she snapped, the frustration clear in her voice. “I have to work today and then take the kids to practice after school. We agreed to share this responsibility.”

“Fine, text me what she needs,” I conceded, knowing I had been shirking my part.

“Thanks, Jarrod,” she replied, sounding relieved. “Stop by. It’s been a while.”

“I will,” I said, hanging up, downing my coffee, and heading outside. I straddled my bike and headed to Walmart to get what she needed. Unsurprisingly, I had to make a stop at the liquor store. If we didn’t bring it to her, she would try to go get it herself, which always ended in trouble.

With everything in my saddlebags, I pulled up in front of my childhood home, the sight of it hitting me with a punch of nostalgia, like always. Nothing ever changed. The grass was still overgrown, the roof and paint job in desperate need of attention. Trish and I had talked about fixing up the house but decided against it. Knowing Mom, she would accidentally burn the place down. We did just enough to keep it decent and safe, though she noticed nothing aside from her Jack and the TV.

Like I said, nothing ever fucking changes.

I took off my cut and placed it in my saddlebag. The sight of it would trigger my mom into a panic attack with the memories it brought. Taking the key out of my pocket, I unlocked the door and went inside, calling out, “Mom, it’s Jarrod.” The smell wasn’t too bad today. Trish must have cleaned recently. I went into the kitchen, placed the bags on the counter, and started putting stuff away.

“You got everything?” Mom asked, shuffling into the kitchen and going straight for the bottle of Jack Daniels.

I looked at her, noting her stringy blonde hair, dead eyes, and thin body. It was hard to remember the pretty lady she had been before alcohol took over her life. When I was little, she was always so happy, a great mom, until she realized who she had married—a biker who had no intention of being the faithful family man. He broke her, and the sad part was I was following in his footsteps, wanting to be just like my old man until that morning we found Kezia.

“How ya been, Jarrod?” she asked, already pouring a finger.

“Getting by,” I replied, closing the refrigerator. “How about you? Thought anymore about rehab?” I already knew the answer but still asked, hoping she would finally wake up and see this isn’t a life.

“Hell no,” she snapped, taking her glass and shuffling back into the living room.

I followed and leaned on the wall, watching her as she settled back onto the couch, her eyes glued to one of the talk shows she liked to watch. “When was the last time you went outside?” I pressed.

“Nothing out there I need to see,” she replied, still staring at the TV. “I have all I need inside this house.”

I sighed, pushing away from the wall. “Do you need anything done before I leave?”

“No, Danny took care of fixing things last week.” Danny was Trish’s husband, the kind of husband Mom wished Dad could have been. Family man through and through. She thought more of Danny than me. I looked like my dad, and sometimes I think she resented me for it.

“I’m heading out then,” I said, moving towards the door. “I’ll stop by and check on you in a few days.”

“Sure, you will, Jarrod. Just like your dad, always lying,” she murmured. I knew she didn’t mean for me to hear it, but I did.

I stopped and almost turned around to defend myself, but instead pushed through the door and outside. Mom didn’t understand how fucking depressing it was coming here and dealing with a drunk.

Dad hadn’t been much, but he was the only parent we had to count on once she started drinking. He loved us in his own way, making sure we had what we needed at home, a little money in our pocket, and he’d kill anyone that messed with his kids.

In all the years growing up, I couldn’t figure out why she just didn’t divorce him. It wasn’t like he would have fought it. It would have made all our lives easier if she had made better decisions. I put my cut back on and straddled my bike, my spirits lifting at the thought of taking Madeline out today. This was a big step for me, but I felt ready to take it.

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