Page 56 of All Jacked Up

His brows drew together. “Really? That’s what you thought? That I’d just leave you here to handle shit on your own today?”

Yes. Maybe. I wasn’t sure. Not with him.

“You have a distillery to run. I don’t expect you to drop everything to help me.”

And I don’t want you seeing the inside of my mother’s trailer.

I also feared that he’d judge me. For letting her live that way while my apartment in Manhattan was worth millions. No matter how she’d treated me, I’d left her to the filth and poverty I’d grown up in. There was a sliver of judgment in me that I wanted to push down deep. She didn’t deserved my guilt. But it was slowly etching its way up the closer I got to revisiting the trailer that had been my childhood.

“Than can handle it. Oz is there today too. It’ll be fine withoutme. Now, don’t argue. Be a good girl and come eat something.”

He was being stubborn. Perhaps honesty was best. He was my friend. He’d understand my wanting to do that part alone.

“I can pick up something for breakfast,” I told him.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you were kind enough to give me a place to stay. I don’t intend to let you feed me all my meals.”

He looked perplexed. “Shakespeare, what part ofbe a good girldo you not comprehend?”

A laugh bubbled out of me. “My not eating here is considered bad?”

He nodded his head slowly. “Especially since I made sure Wilma knew you were gluten-free.”

I scrunched my nose. “Who is Wilma?”

“Cook, house cleaner, magician,” he replied, then winked. “Come on. She’s got you a gluten-free breakfast waiting.”

I stared up at him. And for a moment, I didn’t try and corral the things that he made me feel. I let them free, and my entire chest felt warm and tingly. Then he nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen and began to walk. I fell into step beside him.

There didn’t seem to be anything I could say to stop this. The closer Ransom’s truck got to the trailer I’d lived in, growing up, the heavier my chest felt. I didn’t want him here. I wouldn’t want anyone here to see this. But especially him. I still hadn’t called Jellie to tell her. I should have done that. She’d be here, and if anyone had to see this then, I’d accept it being her the easiest. Besides, I’d told her about it. About my mother. What Ransom knew was a small little chip off the mountain that I’d had to climb in order to move past this part of my life.

Even though I had a successful career and lived twelve hundred miles away, my dead mother had the power to hurt me. Would that ever stop?

“Honestly, it would be easier for me if you simply dropped me off.” I tried again to keep Ransom from doing what he seemed hell-bent on.

He barely glanced at me, and then his eyes were back on the road. “Yeah, Shakespeare, that shit ain’t happening. I don’t care that you think it will be easier. You’re wrong. You aren’t doing this alone. You might as well give up.”

A growl of frustration rumbled past my lips, and he chuckled.

“Is my company that bad?” he asked teasingly.

No, Ransom, I enjoy your company. In fact, I enjoy it too much. I could look at you for days and never get tired of it. But this is a horror I do not want to share.

I said none of that though. Instead, I looked out the window, averting my face from his view the best I could. He would never understand this. Very few would.

Most mothers loved their children. They wanted them to excel in life. They encouraged them. Not my mom.

And the truth would be inside that trailer. All the filth, the hoarding, the nightmares that hid in all the corners, ready to jump out and attack me. Hit me one right after another. The memories I had run from would rush back, and I did not want anyone to witness that.

Ransom wasn’t going to grant that wish though.

The truck turned onto the familiar street filled with potholes, and beer cans littered the overgrown grass that I was sure held things much worse than the cans. My entire body was tense, and my nails bit into my palms as I fisted them tighter. We’d be pulling in front of it soon.

The sick knot that had always come when I arrived home from school every day was back. After ten years without it, the flareof its return was as unwelcome as I had always felt here. Dread sank heavier over me, and I held my breath, now afraid this was the beginning of a panic attack.

God, please do not let me have one in front of Ransom.

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