Page 5 of Fight Or Flight

I turn back to the two boys, who look just as confused as I do.

“Um, does someone want to explain why you’re hugging the lady whose car I hit?” Eric questions. “I mean, I’m all for peace and all that shit, but it’s weird and I think mom might castrate you.”

Still laughing, our parents break their embrace. Mom wipes away a few wayward tears as she juts a thumb toward the bickering brothers.

“These two yours?”

“They sure are,” Robert boasts. “Got two more at home, another boy and a girl,” he reveals proudly, then his eyes find me, and that smirk, which is so like his eldest son’s, falls once again.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs.

My mom follows his gaze and our eyes lock as a proud smile graces her face.

“Brook, baby, come here,” she urges.

Before I can make a move, the leather clad man steps forward, and my gaze slices toward him. He continues to move until he’s standing right in front of me, staring at me with what I swear are tears in his eyes.

This day is getting stranger and stranger by the second.

Feeling as if I’m a specimen under a microscope, I look away.

Big mistake because both of his sons are scrutinizing me too. If there was ever a time to wish I could disappear into thin air, it’s now.

“She looks just like him, doesn’t she?” my mom says from behind him.

The question seems to break the trance, and the man turns back to my mom.

“Joss,” he rasps.

His voice fades, though, as he closes the distance between him and my mom. Without uttering another word, he lifts one hand and fingers the soft silk sash of her scarf. That vulnerable look crosses my mother’s face again and she steps out of the man’s reach. When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice is hoarse and her tone desperate.

“Is he here, Robert? Please, tell me he’s here.”

The thought of Eric Nicholson being close by makes my stomach roll and bile immediately rises in my throat as I wait for the elder Robert to answer.

“Joss,” he repeats, stumbling with his words. My mom drinks him in, acknowledging the despair in his eyes and her shoulder slump in defeat. “I’m so sorry…but Bones…” He closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head. “Eric,” he corrects before pausing again.

Yes, him! Is he here?

Spit it out, guy.

He lifts his eyes back to mom’s and I swear the biker dude looks like he might cry.

“Joss, he’s gone.”

And just like that, my mom’s optimistic approach to life hit the inevitable dead-end she so badly tried to avoid.

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