2. Sunday

TWO

"Wade Michael Sutton!" I holler out while opening my son's bedroom door. I jerk his curtains open, allowing the sun to shine on his face, and look around at his pigsty of a room.

"Whaaa?" I hear him groan from under his pile of blankets, dirty clothes, and Alice Cooper.

"Son, what did I say about that chicken sleeping with you? She has a coop outside!" I growl as I make to grab the asshole bird. Wade's black hen, Alice Cooper, is having none of it and hisses at my advances. Since the night I rescued the bitch from becoming a breeding machine or dinner for my ex-husband, she's had it in for me. Rightfully so, I guess; I did run seven miles with a death grip on her in the middle of the night.

"Mom." Wade pinches the bridge of his nose. "Alice Cooper doesn't want to sleep outside in that condemnable coop."

"Hey, now!" I gasp, taking offense. "I worked really hard on that coop!"

Wade sighs while shaking his head, his sandy blond hair falling into his eyes. "I know you did, Mom. And I appreciate you trying. I know it wasn't easy. I'm sorry."

My heart stings as I watch him lovingly pet that stupid chicken. My boy is too mature for twelve. He's had to grow up way too fast. Hell, we both did. And even though he"s had zero reliable male figures in his life, he has somehow turned out to be the best kind of man out there.

I foolishly allowed one man near my son—my ex-husband, Josh. Josh isn't Wade's father. That piece of shit has never and will never set eyes on my boy. Not that Josh was any better. He swooped in because he saw a poor, barely legal dancer needing financial help and promised me the world. We were married eight months before he hit me. I left and got an annulment the next day. Then, about nine months ago, I was lonely and depressed after having surgery. I was dumb enough to let the man back in for about a month. It's a mistake I'll regret for the rest of my life.

"Come on," I say softly as I turn around. "I think I'm supposed to feed you or something."

Wade cracks the smallest of smiles, but it's still a smile before carrying Alice out of his room. We make our way down the worn stairs, avoiding the soft spot on the one in the middle before heading to the kitchen. Wade takes Alice outside to her condemnable coop to feed her before we head on out while I enter the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, I grab the carton of milk and frown. It's cool, but not cold. I open the door again, no light. Walking over to the light switch, I flip it and frown when none of the lights turn on.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, my brows knitting together in confusion. It's not storming, and I didn't hear about any electrical work that would have our power shut off.

"It's the twenty-third." Wade's voice startles me, and I whip around.

"And?" I pant, trying to get my heart to slow down.

"And the shut-off notice said the twenty-third."

"Shut off notice?" Anger surges through me as Wade gestures to the large stack of papers and envelopes on the kitchen table.

"It's under the hospital bill." I thumb through the papers until I find the paper.

"That fucking bitch." I growl under my breath as I turn from my son, not wanting him to see me as angry as I am. Fucking Peggy Gatliff, also known around here as Mamaw, is my landlord. Slumlord would probably be a better term. I hate having to live here, but after the bullshit I went through during the divorce and Josh stealing my identity and destroying my credit, this dump is the only place that would give me a chance.

Living in this shitty house is temporary–not as temporary as I would've liked, but it's just until I can sell my studio and get us moved to Alabama. But this is too much. It's bad enough that the place is a hazard; now, she's apparently not paying the bills with the cash I give her.

I run my hand over my face; I have a signing today to put my pole dancing studio up on the market and get out of that side of the dance world. But now, I"ll have to call in a favor to see if I can get someone to cosign on a lease for me somewhere else until I can get everything set up in Alabama.

"How about donuts?" I ask him brightly, and he beams, knowing we're headed to the cafe where he's treated like a king.

Wade hopsoff the bus before reaching his hand up to help me down like the sweet gentleman he is. Gripping his hand, I smile at my boy while stepping off the bus before leading him into Nuts About Dough, the little donut shop one of my friends works at.

"Hi, Stevie!" Wade grins at the woman working behind the counter—Stevie's adorable with her bright blue eyes, bluish-green hair, and the cutest cheek piercings.

"Hey, guys!" Her thick Louisiana accent is a soft welcome. Being a transplant from the South as well, I often miss hearing the southern drawl, and while her accent isn't the same as my Alabama-grown one, it's enough to warm me up.

"Hey, girl," I say as Wade and I walk to her counter. "Tell her what you want." I nudge my son. He picks out two donuts and a bottle of milk before sitting in the café area. Turning back to Stevie, I give her a smile, which, judging by her laugh, is probably coming off more like a grimace.

"You know how I have that stupid pride thing that doesn't allow me to ask for help?" I cringe while looking into her sparkling blue eyes. I hate asking for favors; it makes me physically ill, and today is going to be a day full of me asking for help.

"Oh my god!" Stevie leans over the counter and grins. "Finally! Tell me, what is it you need?"

"Can you get Wade to school down the street in, like, an hour? I gotta get to the studio. I'm meeting Ren there to review the paperwork and put the place up. Then I have to go to Hel's to talk to Janie before I start apartment hunting." I watch her smile turn into a frown, and disappointment washes over her.

"That's it? I thought I was going to, like, need to bury a body or something."

"Who needs a body buried?" Stevie's tiny grandmother, Nika, comes out from the back kitchen with a tray full of danishes. Ohhh, and there's a cherry cream cheese one.

"No one, Baka!" Stevie rolls her eyes at the older Croatian woman.

"Good. I no raise you to bury the body. I say svinje, Stefa, always." Nika holds a crooked finger up and shakes it at me. "You, too skinny. I hear the tummy over here. Stay put." Before I can say anything, Nika shuffles into the kitchen.

"What the hell?" I laugh as Stevie shakes her head.

"She's saying pigs. You give the pigs the dead… never mind." I go to demand her to continue, but Nika comes back out holding a bag and a to-go cup.

"You take. On me. Eat! Grow some ass!" I snort at the old woman before I peek in the bag. Cherry and cream cheese danishes. Ugh, she might be the love of my life right now.

"Thank you," I smile and turn to Stevie. "And thank you for doing this for Wade. I really appreciate it."

"No worries. Give me a hard one next time." I wave goodbye before heading to my son, who's working on his second donut. Kissing the top of his head, I bend down and move his schoolbook from his face.

"I'm heading to work. Stevie will walk you to school, okay?" Wade rolls his eyes.

"Mom, I'm not a baby. I can walk there by myself."

"I know, but it would make me feel better if you had company. Do you have your homework? Lunch? Snack? Janie will be picking you up if the meeting goes too long-"

"Yes," Wade sighs. "I have a peanut butter sandwich, my English report, and I'll be at the stop waiting for her. Now go to work and make sure you eat something and take your meds." All he has is a sandwich? Looking at my bag of danishes, I silently bid them farewell before slipping them into his bag and kissing his head one more time.

"I love you so much. It's disgusting, you know that, right?" I smile at his pre-teen groan and say, "Mom, you're so gross," before waving one last time and heading to the bus stop.

"Hey girl,"I smile at my friend Ren as I walk up to the front of my studio.

"I'm not alive yet." She groans as she rests her head on my shoulder while I unlock the front door.

I hand her the rest of my coffee. "Well, get there. I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for this meeting. You should be happy! Soon, I'll never have to ask you to teach the Silver Stilettos class again!" Ren's face falls and I have to bite back a laugh.

"You realize that making me teach that class nearly cost us our friendship?" I roll my eyes at her dramatics.

"I never madeyou. You worked here, and I was having breakthrough seizures. You volunteered, and they loved you so much I had to keep you doing it!" I explain as we walk into my studio for what will be the last time. I expect to feel some sense of happiness that this place will soon belong to someone else, but I don't. Instead, I'm full of a queasy feeling. I've been on my own for a long time, finding my way and listening to my gut. And right now, she's telling me that something's wrong, that this is wrong. But how can it be? Getting out of this state is the only option I have at this point. I have no credit, a mound of debt, and a pissed-off ex-husband. My best chance to start over and rebuild is to leave here and return to Alabama.

Ren's grumbling pulls me back out of my thoughts, and I look at my blonde friend. "The last time you guilted me into doing that class, Gladys' husband, George, pulled me aside after class and told me, in great detail, how the class has changed their sex lives."

"See! You've been out there helping to strengthen relationships!" I smile as I sit in my desk chair and prop my legs up on the desk.

"George is ninety-four!" Ren hisses, and I have to admit, it's not the most comfortable visual. Still, I can't help fucking with her.

"You're telling me when Atlas is ninety-four, you won't be spinning your curvy ass around a pole for him?" Ren rolls her brown eyes and shakes her head.

"Atlas will be dead long before then if he doesn't stop with all these stupid adventures. He and Amelia are going skydiving as we speak. I'm just waiting for the phone call to identify what's left of their bodies." My face softens at the mention of Atlas' sister. According to what Ren has said, Amelia and Atlas had a very toxic relationship while growing up, and it only got worse while Amelia was deep in her drug addiction, along with their mother. But Amelia got clean a little while back, and Atlas has been trying to bring her back into their lives slowly.

"How's she doing?" I ask, and Ren shrugs, obviously still not sold on Amelia.

"She's sober. She's going to meetings, passing drug tests, going to therapy, and following the rules in the sober living house she's in. She doesn't ask At for money or much of anything except for time and for him to go to a monthly family therapy session with her. She goes with us every week to the nursing home, and she's been volunteering at an animal shelter across town. So, on paper, she's doing everything right. I just hope she sticks with it. You know how At is. He loves with his whole heart, and it'll destroy him if she does anything to break his trust again. He wants so badly to believe that she's changed for good."

I nod as I fire up my computer. "True, but give her the benefit of the doubt, you know? If she's trying, that's hard work and shouldn't be overlooked. Atlas deserves a big sister, not that you aren't enough woman for him."

"Shut up and get your shit ready. I'll let you know when the people are here," she mutters while heading out the door.

As Ren walks out, I lean back in my chair, and I'm filled with that sick feeling again. Staring at my computer screen, I skim over my emails and feel annoyance settle in. An appointment reminder with my neurologist is at the top of the email list, followed by another email to schedule an appointment with my surgeon. Perfect, something else I don't have time for.

I let out a tired sigh while running my hands through my long hair, wrapping it in my hand as I twist it into a messy bun, securing it with the hair tie on my wrist. My epilepsy issues are nothing new. I've had seizures since I was a child. I've gone through all the drug studies and tried everything, but so far, no cocktail of medication can get me seizure-free for more than a couple of months. When I got the approval for the VNS, a vagal nerve stimulator, I thought that it would be the answer to my prayers. I would be able to get a driver's license. My son wouldn't have to worry about leaving me alone; hell, Iwouldn't have to worry about being alone—no more rideshares or buses. No more texts from him asking if I remembered my medicine. We could be normal. But it didn't help. We tried and tried, and the seizures were still frequent, and it was affecting my ability to talk and work; it was hell. So, it wasn't feasible to continue, and now I'm having the device removed; I was supposed to be able to leave it in, just have them shut it off, but because I'm just this lucky, there's some faulty piece in there and leaving it in could cause more issues.

For now, it's turned off, and I'm in the first month of the hell that's my medication adjustments. It's a crapshoot, really. Increase this, decrease that, mix this, don't mix that. And we continue doing this more and more until I find a dose that minimizes the seizures but doesn't leave me with tons of side effects. Like my current ones, brain fog and insomnia.

Pulling up the search engine, I reluctantly start typing. I need to find a new place for Wade and me to stay until I can sell this place and get everything ready down in Alabama. Right now, I'm looking at six months before he and I should have enough to get a place down there and have our stuff shipped. However, having to find a new apartment will cut into savings, meaning that it might take eight months, depending on the place I find that will take me even with a co-signer.

I smileas my redheaded friend, Janie, hands me a plastic cup filled with champagne while we sit in her tattoo shop, Hel's Ink. I look around the room. Janie's sitting on the lap of her fiancé, Fox, the lead artist and co-owner of the shop. Ren's batting away her husband Atlas' hand as he goes to grab her ass. Atlas gives her a sheepish grin while sneaking a squeeze before running from her. My boy, Wade, sits next to me, though he won't stop staring at the break room, where I know the guys have an XBOX set up. His eyes meet mine, and I relent.

"Fine," I say, motioning to the back room. "But Derek's back there, so you best be respectful and don't piss him off." Wade grins and bolts out of the room, nearly hitting someone walking in from the back. The figure walks out and… oh fuck no.

I spin away on my chair before downing my champagne in one very long gulp while silently wishing it whiskey.

"Hey," Ash smiles at everyone as he hops onto his table. "What's everyone doing? Is this some weird intervention?"

Janie rolls her blue eyes before gesturing to Stevie, who's setting up the food table. "Right, because cake and pizza are key components for any good intervention."

Ash shrugs, "I dunno. I'd probably be less mad about being ganged up on if cake from Stevie was involved."

Stevie points her knife at him. "Back it up, Johnson. Your smooth talking won't get you the first piece."

Ash's dark-as-night eyes land on me, and I see a momentary look of panic on his face as if I'm a zombie or an ex-wife. But as fast as the panic appears, it leaves and is replaced with his signature confident and flirty smirk. "Well, hello." His chuckle is soft as he twists his hands together. "And you might be?"

I'm going to have to kill him. My mortification rises, and I feel the sting in my eyes. I'm going to cry from the embarrassment. I look to my girlfriends. They all know Ash Johnson, and I had a one-night stand years ago. I told Ren last Thanksgiving when he pulled this exact move. And I'm sure since the women know, the guys do too.

Heat rises in my chest and up my neck to my face. He's really going to playthis card? Again? Okay, fine. If I'm going down, I'm taking his ass with me.

Forcing the sting back from my eyes, something I've spent years mastering, I lock in on him and arch one bored brow. "Oh, we've met, Dash," I state, crossing my arms over my chest. His eye twitches at the name, and his lips part as though he's going to speak, but I don't let him. "We had a nice date a couple of years ago down at the taco trucks. You might remember us dancing in the rain? Then we went back to my place to have sex. I think you got… Oh, I don't know, half a pump in before you blew your load? Then you apologized a hundred times, left sixty dollars on my dresser, and ran out. I'm surprised you don't remember that. Or is it just a common theme between you and your dates?"

The room's deathly silent. Ash's face is ghost white, and his jaw is slack. I raise a brow in challenge. Your move, fucker.

His eyes shudder as he closes his mouth tightly, his jaw muscles popping while his obsidian eyes burn into me before looking away.

"So, what flavor is that cake?" He pats Atlas on the back while walking over to the food.

Did he? He just blew me off!

I look over at Janie, who has an equally shocked expression. I shake my head and stand up, no longer in the celebratory mood, and head out of the shop and down the stairs to the parking lot to get some air.

"Hey!" Janie's voice calls as she chases after me. "Don't you take that! Go back in there and—"

"He's not worth it," I whisper faintly while fanning my hot face.

"But you are! Don't let him—"

"Janie, I need help." I blurt out. She blinks several times before furrowing her red brows.

"Really? From me? What is it? Because if it's killing Ash, I'm fine with it, but I gotta call Nika." I let out a surprised laugh.

"No, fuck him. I need to get Wade out of the place we're staying. My credit is horrible, as you know. If I find a place, could I get you as a co-signer?"