Page 35 of Miss Understanding

His entire body stiffened up. “Yeah. Do you want anything to drink, Mom? Soda? Iced tea?”

“No, thank you. He’d take you to your practices, too. And watch your games. Do you remember?” Her expression seemed hopeful for her son to give her the slightest crumb.

He shot to his feet. “I remember. I’m getting something to drink. Anyone else want something?”

What the hell? He couldn’t even be nice to his own mother who wanted to reminisce about his father?

“I just want to talk about the good times, Liam. Can’t you do it for me?” Her tears were welling up, but he was downright icy.

“I’ll be out in the truck.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered something into her ear before stalking out.

If I’d thought my boss was a dick before, this took it to an entirely new level.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam

I whispered to my mother that I loved her more than anything, but I still wasn’t over all the bad times that had followed the good ones. And I was sorry.

God, was I sorry. I wished I could fake it. I knew she wanted me to. Feeling like a class A prick for hurting her, I went out to the truck to wait. I was tempted to ask if my sister could drive Kendall home, but it would only add to my level of asshole. I turned up the heat and tried to calm myself from the resentment brought on by my mother’s skewed recollection.

Yes, I remembered him throwing the ball with me. I’d been five or maybe six and would do almost anything for his attention. But the moment I wasn’t perfect, he’d get irrationally angry. I was never good enough. And yes, I’d remembered the T-ball practices and games when he was sober. They’d been amazing. But they’d been few and far between. Instead, my memories were of fighting tears at the constant critical comments. My mother wanted to paint the picture differently, rewrite history, yet I couldn’t forget the bruises, the screaming, or the sound of the front paned window breaking the night he left us for good.

He’d been livid because social services was investigating my black eye from the week before. I’d stepped in the way of his fist when it had been directed at my mother and had received the brunt of the blow on my face. There’d been no way to hide it this time around. I believe it had been that investigation which had saved us all. Sometimes I wondered if my mother would’ve ever had the courage to tell him to leave.

I tamped down on the resentment that threatened to bubble up. I couldn’t go there. She’d been an abused and battered wife and mother without the self-esteem to recognize she could do better. Afterward, she’d done the best she could. Growing stronger. Working hard for us kids.

I’d finally calmed myself down by the time Kendall hugged my family and got into the truck. I gave my sister a small wave, knowing she understood more than anyone else why I’d needed the space.

We were silent on the way back to the house. I could only imagine what my assistant was thinking, but I wasn’t about to dump my family history on her.

The house was cold when we went inside. It was after nine o’clock, and all I wanted was some peace and quiet along with a glass of whiskey.

I noticed Kendall’s agitation as she took off her coat. She didn’t bother to make eye contact with me. Instead, she went out the back door and came in with an armful of wood.

“I can do that.”

“Don’t bother.”

“What’s with the attitude?”

She turned and glared.

“If you’re somehow pissed that I needed to leave the bowling alley, it’s none of your business.” Her obvious judgment made me defensive as hell.

“You’re right. It’s not my business. But I’m also not surprised by it.”

Her assessment stung more than I’d like to admit. “You know nothing about it.” I should have walked away before things escalated, but instead, I stood there clenching my fists.

“No, I don’t know anything about it because you don’t share anything.”

“Do I need to remind you? You’re my legal secretary. We work together.” Maybe I was the one who needed the reminder. “Anything personal is off-limits.”

She grabbed the matches and lit the paper under the kindling. “Then, why did you bring me here?”

“I brought you here to work. Nothing else. Yet somehow you’ve managed to become entwined in my personal shit.”

“Obviously with an agenda, right? I’m forcing myself into people’s lives and cooking them meals. What a dick move of me to be nice to people who have only been nice to me.”