“Figures,” Erica said. “Unlike his brother, that boy could hold his liquor without falling off the deep end.”
Since Carmen had seen a drunk Viking up close, she didn’t refute that remark. Still, the comment seemed a little harsh.
“So, how long has it been since you’ve seen Sy?”
“Over a year ago.” Erica took a long pull from her drink and scratched her arm again.
The woman obviously had the jitters. Carmen just wasn’t sure if it was because she felt cold or because of nerves.
“Do you want me to get you a sweater or—”
“No, I’m just nervous about seeing my little boy again.”
“I understand. Surely you two have a lot of catching up—”
Erica jumped up. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Sure. It’s just down the hall, on the right.” She’d barely finished her sentence, before Erica had slammed down her drink and headed off.
Carmen tried to ignore the woman’s odd behavior. Maybe Vince had been right, and she shouldn’t have gotten involved. But it was too late now. They had to deal with it.
She’d just taken the kettle off the stove when thunderous footsteps made her jump.
“Where is she?”
Sy was standing right behind her. Judging by his shorts and sweaty tank top, he’d just returned from a workout. To say he looked pissed off was an understatement. She’d never seen him like this before. Sy was the happy, carefree one, always in for a laugh. Unlike broody Vince, he appeared not to take life too seriously.
“Your mother just went into the bathroom. Take it easy on her. She’s very nervous and—”
“Mom!” he bellowed.
When he wanted to barge after the poor woman, Carmen grabbed his arm. Even his skin felt hotter than usual.
He turned his gaze on her and she stepped back, daunted by the burning fury in his blue orbs.
“Please, calm down. You’re going to scare her.”
He laughed without humor. “Me, scare her? You don’t know what you’re talking about. Why the hell did you let her in when Vince told you not to?”
“Because she’s your mother.” Seeing how upset he was, she grabbed his hand and leaned against his big frame. She let out a breath when he didn’t pull away from her.
“Just because she gave birth to me doesn’t make her a mother.”
The anguish in his voice tore at the seams of her soul. Whatever had happened to him, the scars ran deep. Much deeper than the ones he wore on his skin.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s just that I lost my mom a long time ago and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. Maybe I shouldn’t have presumed you would feel the same, but I figured that whatever happened between you two, she is still your mom. Family is everything.” If there was one truth in life she had always held on to, it was that credo.
“Well, I’m glad at least someone gets that,” Erica snapped.
She was standing near the fridge, keeping a distance from her son.
There was a hint of disdain in her voice that irked Carmen, but she kept that to herself. It was no use adding more fuel to an already explosive situation. She wasn’t sure how to react. Sy was no help either, standing next to her with balled fists. Waves of rage wafted off his body.
Erica seemed to be the only one not too distraught by the tension in the kitchen. She clutched her bag closer to her chest and made it around the kitchen island.
“Please, stay,” Carmen pleaded when Erica headed toward the corridor.
Erica curled her lip. “I can see that I’m still not welcome. Goodbye, son.”