Page 4 of Knock Knock

“Maybe!Maybewanting a kid. Like one. Huge maybe.Massivefucking maybe, Nate.”

I wasn’t much of an eye-roller, but I strained to hold it back. Maybe was enough of a reason to keep the idea alive, and until he made up his mind, I’d support him on it. I’d hand-hold him through the whole thing. He’d be a hot dad. But when Kaylee asked him about kids, and he said his typical ‘maybe,’ she laughed at him and claimed he wasn’t dad material. It made me so mad that I needed to leave the room before I smacked a bitch.

“What season ofTeen Wolfare we on?” I asked instead.

“Ido notwatch that shit,” he grumped. “What’d Devon really want when he called? Madd’s alright, yeah?”

“They’re fine. Dicks as usual.” I slid my second shoe on as we pulled into the parking lot of the shop. “You still into this, Xav?”

“Into what?”

“This Bethany shit. The hookup thing.” I motioned between us, unsure how I wanted him to answer. If he was out, I’d lose my chance to be close to him that way. But if he was in, I’d have to suffer through everyone else being able to touch him while I couldn’t.

“Yeah, why?” Xavi asked. “You want out?” His face turned stern and then he hopped out of the truck so fast I couldn’t answer. His door didn’t latch, so he slammed his ass against it and booked it to the shop.

“No,” I called after him, getting out.

Then he spun around, marched his shirtless self right up to me, had Maddox’s anger in his eyes, and said, “You ever leave me in this shit, I’ll kill you.” He turned around.

Sheesh.I tried not to laugh.

“You’re on episode seven! Season two!” he shouted back.

“You suck at death threats!”

He gave me the finger.

Sans pants and sumo walking, I let the night air soothe my inner thigh chafe as I followed him.

CHAPTER2

XAVI

My brother got married,my dad got sober, and Jim Sawyer was dead, so you’d think life would have gotten easier. Instead, we were swimming in debt from updating the shop, still playing catch-up from the time Maddox was in prison, and on top of that, life questions were coming at me all hard and nagging.

But on top ofall that, I pulled my mom’s hair back, trying not to gag at the smell of her vomiting on the front lawn.

“Get the fuck out,” Maddox snarled at a bunch of Mom’s drinking buddies. He held the door open for them and shoved a few out of the trailer. “Take your shit with you.”

Mom heaved, and red-tinted bile splashed on the grass. The box of wine she drank came back out foamy, and I had to assume she was back on the pills. A subtle sense of dread washed through me. It wasn’t anything different from the rest of our lives, but shit was finally going half-decent. I hadn’t realized how comfortable I’d gotten in a life without as much dire stress until Mary called to say our dad was missing and our mom was making a scene.

“She good?” Maddox asked, all business. “Get her inside.” He helped me heave her up and carry her inside. She smelled terrible and looked even worse, and sadness overcame me because it really sucked that progress wasn’t linear.

“Where the hell is Dad?” I asked, holding her up while Maddox set down a few towels on her bed.

He looked at me, said nothing, and we came to the same conclusion. If Mom was back on the pills and getting drunk enough to make a scene, having all her wino buddies over like she used to, it probably meant that Dad had fallen off the wagon, too. We’d lived this dance a time or ten.

Throwing Mom on her bed, forcing her to stay on her side, and jamming pillows behind her back was the best we could do. Closing the door partway, we walked into the living room to take in the mess. Bottles, cans, and cigarette packs were everywhere, and just last week, when we’d been here for Friday night dinner, it was clean with candles burning and everything.

“What the hell happened?” Maddox asked. “They were fine last week.”

I tried calling Dad, but he didn’t pick up, and Mary said he wasn’t in the office at the park’s main building. I knew them getting back together was a bad idea. Dad had worked so hard to get clean and sober, and despite Mom measuring her wine and cutting down on the pills, she hadn’t tried hard enough. She was who she was, and I hated that I spent so much of my life blaming my dad for everything. It was her. She was the downfall of their relationship and sobriety every damn time.

“I can’t fucking be in here,” he said, opening the front door.

I looked at the mess, the random wet spot on the couch, the filth that had built up in a single week, and turned my back on it. I couldn’t handle looking at it. We’d gotten out. Made our own way. Broken free of the hold our parents had on us. But like most things in our lives, it’d all been a farce. Joke was on us for thinking we would just be taking care of ourselves from now on. No time for deep breaths in our lives.

“You go. I’ve got this.”

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