Page 76 of Examining the Bond

“You call out of work, ignore text messages and phone calls?—”

“—I’m on vacation?—”

“Do you know how many times I called you?” She waves her cell phone in my face for emphasis.

I grimace. “Uhh…”

She doesn't give me a chance to answer.

“Fifteen, Skylar. Fifteen. I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” She raises her voice enough that it echoes through the house. Then she looks me over head to toe and scrunches her nose. “When was the last time you showered?”

“Yesterday,” I grumble, knowing it’s a lie.

I probably should have showered yesterday, or the day before, but I couldn’t be fucked. Not when the faintest trace of marshmallow still clings to my skin…

With a sigh, I step past Lana and head for the living room again, collapsing on the couch where my ass has made a well-worn indent in the cushion. She follows behind me, making a disgusted face at the collection of abandoned delivery containers spread out on every surface of the room.

“No manches,” she whispers, glaring around. “What woman fucked you over this time? Don’t tell me it was the one we talked about…”

“No one.” My voice comes out strained.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious,” I lie, refusing to meet her eyes.

Lana marches across the room, planting herself on the opposite side of the coffee table so I can’t ignore her. “Did someone die?”

I shake my head.

“Did you lose your job?”

“No,” I grunt.

“Then, this is obviously over some girl.” She gestures to the filthy table with a sweep of her hand. “What else would have your clit in such a twist?”

I don't dignify that with a response, instead reaching for the remote again. I still have no interest in watching TV, I just need something to do with my hands.

But Lana is there a second later, ripping it from my grasp.

“That’s it,” she snaps. “Get up.”

“What? No.” I glare at her, reaching for the remote.

She shakes her head curtly, her hair swaying with the movement. “You’re getting up and washing your ass, now move.”

A pit forms in my stomach, defiant anger brewing in my chest. “Fuckoff, Lana. I didn’t ask you to be here.”

“No, you just let me believe you weredead.” She flips off the TV and marches to the mantle, placing the remote there, well out of my reach. “Now, get up.”

“No, I’m not fuc?—”

“Skylar Alejandra, do not make me call our mother.”

I huff. The last thing I want is that woman showing up with a suitcase and moving into the spare room. Absolutely not. I moved out to the middle of nowhere for a reason.

With a grumble and a string of muttered curses, I haul myself off the couch again, shooting Lana a scathing look.

“That’s what I thought.” Her voice is still sharp as a blade. “And put on something nice when you’re bathed.”