Page 42 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

“None of your business,” I answer.

“Benjamin.” We don’t say a word to each other. She drops the pillow to the couch and rises to her feet. The sofa is the only barrier between us, but it feels like there’s more. Angry unspoken words. On the plus side, she hasn’t raised her voice yet. I thought I did, but I don’t feel up for another yelling battle with her. “I was asking because Amanda saw you. You were serving…”

I understand what she’s getting at, but I have no idea who this Amanda is, and the thought of any of her friends or women from her circle knowing my whereabouts makes my head spin.

“So, you have people watching me now?” I say, and it sounds like a growl.

“No, but we know people who know other people, and they will see you, and they will talk.”

I try to keep it down but a grunt tears out of my lips. My gaze rakes over her from head to toe. With hair the same color as mine framing her face, the resemblance between us is uncanny. She is pretty in her beautiful dresses and flawless makeup. Pretty and untouchable, but I try. I try to reach into that part of her that should care. “Of course. It’s always about other people and never your son.”

“Benny, no,” she cries out. “You know that’s not true.”

“Don’t.” My fist comes down on the couch. They can replace it if I damage it, and the thought of doing that grows more appealing to me. Her eyes seek mine. She wants a compromise, but I am not giving her anything. “Don’t call me that. I just want Asher, and I will be out of your hair.”

“You can’t take him. You are still suspended, and you worked. We agreed you wouldn’t work.”

A steel resolve sneaks into her eyes. To be fair, I broke the rules. But don’t we all? I have missed him, and he has been away for too long. “There was nothing else for me to do with my time.”

“Then next time, don’t get suspended,” she says in a clipped tone.

She is close now. Soon, if I keep up with this, I will get what I want. A mother shouting at her son. I shake out my arms to ease the stiffness in them. My eyes roam the pictures hanging on the wall of the living room. I can point out their position without looking. The picture-perfect family.

“It was…” I stop myself from saying more. She doesn’t deserve an explanation. “Fuck you.”

“Watch your tone, young man.”

“Or what?” I say, and she closes the gap, leaving only the couch I’m leaning on between us. I spread out my arms. My voice is low, mocking, and full of hate and annoyance. “You will cut me off?”

“Remember who pays the bill, Benjamin. Remember why you get to stay there.”

Her reply humbles me. The truth of my reality pushes a lump that I have trouble swallowing into my throat. I look at her from top to bottom. She fits in here. She belongs here. I might have come out of her, but we are opposites. It’s crazy how you can hate someone yet be so dependent on them. I nod more to myself and point toward the stairs leading to Asher’s room. She must have gotten the memo because she doesn’t say another word until my foot is on the first stair.

“You make this so hard, Benny,” she whispers.

The silence lends weight to her words. They go straight into my heart and severe it. My hand clamps around the railing, and I breathe in deeply. “Then stop trying. Stop acting like my mother.”

“I am your mother, Benjamin!”

A thousand and one harmful words fight to be set free. I whip around to face her. Tears drop to her cheeks, and the rude reply dies on my lips. I got to her. But that doesn’t make me happy. She claps a hand over her mouth and sniffs silently, like she’ll be less of the woman she is if I watch her crumble. I meet her gaze once and look away. I don’t think I like it when she cries.

“Look,” I say in a softer, more subdued voice. “I’ll just check in on Asher and leave.”

Without hearing her reply, I bound up the stairs. I made her cry. I made Tessa cry. I always make the females around me cry. I stop in front of Asher’s door. It’s eerily quiet. I crack the door open, and a smile tilts my lips as I lean on the doorframe. He’s asleep with his earbuds plugged in. Asher makes everything better. In a few strides, I’m at his bed. I pull the comforter over his chest and place a kiss on his forehead. He mumbles something in his sleep and relaxes when I stroke his arm. I sigh. I’m almost eighteen and can’t sleep well without my kid brother on the same bed.

“Monday is almost here,” I whisper and remove his earbuds. “We will be together soon.”

One last kiss on his forehead, and I am out of his room. I meet her seated on the last stair with her face buried in her palms. She is not crying, is she? I can’t deal with any more tears. My steps are slow as I approach her. She stands and takes a step back. I glare at the coat she stretches to me.

“It’s cold outside,” she volunteers to my silent question. My gaze doesn’t leave the coat. I could do with one. I should have brought mine if I wasn’t so stubborn and damn stupid. “It’s mine.”

I accept it with a tight smile. “Thanks.”

An uncomfortable veil of silence hovers above us, and she wraps her arms around herself. She doesn’t expect me to hug her, does she? That will be going too far, and it’s just a freaking coat.

“I’ll be on my way now. Thanks again, and goodnight.”

She walks me to the door and even opens it. Can’t wait for me to leave, can she? I start doubting myself when she falls in line with me as I start for my motorbike. She is weird tonight. I hate it. I hate changes.

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