Page 26 of Bet on It

I did make a new friend though

Corey: Well that’s boring as fuc.

Walker: She’s actually very fun, you asshole

Corey:…

Corey: And this fun you’re having with your new friend, it wouldn’t be of the fucking variety, would it?

Walker: Absolutely not

Just a good, perfectly wholesome time. We go to bingo together.

Corey: And I’m supposed to think bingo isn’t a euphemism for eating pussy???

Walker: Hate to disappoint but it’s literally just regular old-fashioned bingo with the daubers and numbers and old people and everything

Corey: That’s a fucking bummer

Walker: You’re telling me.…

Corey: Wait, what? So you DO want to get it with your new friend then?

Walker: Sorry man, I need to go

About to have that talk with Gram like you suggested.

Corey: You squirrelly little motherfucker

Corey: Fine, go experience some emotional growth or what the fuck ever

He barked a laugh into the quiet of his room. Leave it to Corey to curse him out and make him feel better over the course of one short conversation. He paused when he heard the TV downstairs, knowing immediately that Gram had finally left her bed for the comfort of the couch.

The house they lived in was old. Gram and his grandfather, Mitchell, had bought it before his dad had even been born. Walker’s grandfather had died when Benny was thirteen, and instead of selling and moving on, Gram had decided to hunker down and stay put. The old house had been well maintained and stood strong, but its age meant it was damn near impossible to not hear everything that happened inside of it. The precautions he’d had to take to jerk off in peace were damn near CIA levels of covert ops. He had plenty of experience keeping an ear out for which part of the house Gram was moving around in. This came in handy when he was trying to do something private or sneaky—and when he was trying to avoid her.

Now the noise helped guide him towards her and the conversation they needed to have. He heaved a long sigh, getting out of bed to pull on a pair of jogging pants and a T-shirt before he slipped out of the room. When he got downstairs, she was sitting in the right corner of the couch, one of her casts resting on the couch’s arm, using the remote to flip through the TV channels. Her dark satin robe was a little wrinkled and her hair was all over the place, but she seemed relaxed. She looked up when she saw him, the lines around her mouth pinching tighter as her lips pursed and pressed together.

“Hey, Gram,” he said, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.

“Oh, we’re speakin’ to each other now?” Her eyes burned.

He sunk in on himself then, a wave crashing over him, leaving him weak and soaked in shame. “Gram… I’m sorry.…”

“Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m not used to it. You spent years lockin’ me out.”

“I didn’t lock you out.” Walker struggled to keep indignation out of his tone. “I was just—” He stopped and shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for that. “I was angry.”

Gram’s exasperated sigh made his temples ache. “You’ve been here three weeks, Wally. What could you possibly have to be angry about already?”

There were all kinds of infuriating things he wanted to reveal. The way he hated the looks he got in town anytime someone recognized him. The fact that he couldn’t even get himself off at a time when he needed the relief most because his grandmother refused to knock before entering a room. The way she still refused to acknowledge his PTSD by name. So many grievances rushed to the front of his mind at once that his head spun.

“The other night, when we were at the diner and you were talkin’ to Louise Smith—that bothered me. It made me angry,” was what he said instead.

Her face screwed up and he could see that she truly didn’t understand. That only made the knots in his stomach pull tighter.

“Why would that have made you mad?” she asked. “We were just talkin’ about her vacation.”

Tendons tight, he stretched his neck, grimacing as he moved his head from side to side. Tension rose in his body right along with frustration. For him, that combination had always been dangerous. He was trying not to get too worked up, but he wasn’t doing a great job of it. The backs of his neck and knees slicked wet with sweat as anxiety invaded his body.

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