Chapter 23

Bogey yips, circling my legs in excitement, and I take my earbuds out since he's obviously trying to tell me something. As soon as my ears are clear of Metallica, loud buzzing assaults my ears from the front of the house. No wonder Bogey is excited. Someone is leaning on my doorbell like my house is on fire.

"Coming," I yell, wiping my flour-covered hands on my apron. I'm sure there's some on my nose, too, but the person at the door is insistent I answer before cleaning myself off.

Wrenching the door open, I find Liam standing on my porch with an angry look on his face that I've never seen before. He takes a quick sweep up my body, and his eyes soften when they notice the flour on my face. He inhales and straightens his shoulders, putting his sour look back in his sneer.

"What's wrong?" I ask in lieu of a greeting. His face is beet red. Instinctively, I take a step back as he opens the screen door and stomps into my house. "You're scaring me, Liam."

"I'm scaring you? I'm fucking scaring you?" he yells.

"Now you really are. What is this about?"

Bogey bounces between us, happy to see Liam, and Liam completely ignores him. This isn't right. Liam loves Bogey and has never ignored him or failed to accept licks and puppy hugs as soon as he's in my home.

"You gave my mother drugs." He spits out the words, obviously disgusted.

My shoulders slouch, and I blow out a sigh. "I told her not to tell you."

"Will you listen to yourself? You gave an old woman drugs and asked her to keep it a secret like it's some kind of sick game. What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do something that…that trashy?"

I reel back like he hit me. Anger burns from my feet like it's coming from hell itself and moves up to my face, reddening it. "Watch your tone. You're in my house, Officer Lane. Don't call your mother old. She has a younger heart and soul than her grumpy son. And did you just call me trashy?"

For the first time since he's come in, he pauses. He shakes his head like he's waking up, and his mouth opens for a moment, then closes. He sputters, finding his words. "I'm not calling you trashy, Lorelei. You aren't trashy in the slightest. That was a trashy thing to do. You gave her drugs."

I turn and walk back to the kitchen. "Show yourself out. I have the mixer on. I'm busy. I trust you can find classier women that won't do something horrible and trashy by giving your mom something to help the pain and nausea." I stop and turn to him, flashing the smile I know he likes. "How is she feeling? Tell me all about how I ruined your mother."

He flexes his jaw and looks at me with such disgust that my heart breaks into a million pieces. Even when we first met and he didn't like what I did for a living, he didn't look at me like this. He glares at me with disgust, and tears prick my eyes.

I turn away and stomp to the kitchen. I know he won't hit me or tackle me, and I fully expect him to leave.

What I don't expect is for him to follow me, Bogey still playfully jumping on him and trying to get his attention.

"I want to talk about this. Why did you do it?"

I get buttermilk out of the fridge and close the door hard enough that I check to make sure I didn't break the door. "I don't know, Liam. Maybe it's because your mother can't keep food down, and I have something that can help with that growing in my greenhouse."

"It's sick and wrong." He points his index finger. If it's possible, he's getting angrier the longer he's here.

I've had enough of his shit.

"Why? Because you say so? Because your moral compass has decided that she doesn't have a right to make medical decisions for her body? You treat her like a child!" I yell, slamming the buttermilk on the counter so hard that liquid comes out of the container a foot into the air. It splashes on the granite and soaks the front of my apron. I ignore it, letting the angry tears fall in front of him.

I don't care what he thinks. I've never let him see full tears before, even when I was in handcuffs. But I don't fucking care now. I don't often cry when I'm sad. When tears make an appearance on me, someone better back the fuck up because they only come during anger and frustration.

"I take care of her!" he yells back, pointing to his chest. He points so hard, he may give himself a bruise. "I'm the one that makes sure the bills are paid. I'm the one who drives her to almost every appointment. I carry her into the house afterward, and I clean her house because the home health nurse does the bathing. I refill her prescriptions!"

"And you treat her like she can't make her own medical decisions because you have a vendetta against a plant! Just because you personally hate something doesn't mean you have the right to keep people away from it."

"That's not what this is!"

"Really? Because it sure looks that way. It looks like you don't like it. Little Liam doesn't like the big, bad plant that relaxes and helps cancer patients with pain and nausea. Therefore, he's going to make sure that nobody he knows and loves can get access to it, come hell or high water."

He shakes his head. "It shouldn't have been legalized."

"But it was. The voters legalized it. In a red state, no less. The people spoke, Liam, and you can't stand it because you're butthurt that the majority of voters want it. But it's against Liam Lane's delicate morals, so you just want to burn it down for everyone, not even caring that it can be a gray area."

His forehead crinkles, and he breathes out his nose as he grits his teeth. I'm on a roll, and he's going to listen to me. I walk toward him as I idly act like I'm stacking the plates I just got out of the dishwasher. "I believe there's a certain little medication that guys like when they can't get their dicks up. That's legal, but I don't think it should be. It's just not natural. We should totally crucify anyone that uses it because I don't like it, right?"

"I know where you're going, but this is my mother!"

"Your mother has been miserable and can't keep food down! I did her a favor. Sure, it probably wasn't the best favor, and I probably should have talked to you first, but she's a grown-ass woman. If she wants to have a nibble of a legal brownie in a recreational state, that woman is over twenty-one and can do it in her own home. What the fuck is your problem? Why do you try to manage everyone?" His eyes flare, and I step around the counter. It takes a lot to get me yelling, but I'm there. "You are not the boss of everyone. You are not your mother's boss, and you sure aren't the boss of me!"

He glares, and his lip curls as he steps closer. "Someone needs to be your boss! Someone should show you how things should be done. Fuck knows you're incapable of doing anything that doesn't involve getting high or getting someone else high. I'm surprised you even feed your dog."

Silence fills the room, and he backs away from me. He knows. He knows he's over the line. His chin quivers, and his eyes widen.

"Get the fuck out of my fucking house!" I say in a voice barely above a whisper, pointing toward the door. "Now!"

He doesn't move, so I pick up a nearby plate and hurl it at him in a half-ass attempt to make him leave and show him I mean business. Liam ducks in the nick of time and looks at the wall behind him as the shards of glass slide down. "You're psycho!" he screams.

"I'm psycho? You come into my house when I was just helping your mom in a legal way, Liam, and then you tell me I can't take care of myself or my dog. I'm so sorry she's doing better. And let me guess, she felt better after my brownies. Didn't she? She's eating, right?"

He looks at the floor, and I pick up another plate. "Get the fuck out!"

His eyes flick to Bogey, who cowers and whimpers under a kitchen chair. Dropping the plate, my feet move to my dog, and I wrap my hands around his furry flank. His ears go back, and he licks my face as he trembles. He doesn't like storms, and I guess yelling is loud like that. "Sorry, buddy," I whisper, stroking his head. "We're being loud. Don't worry, the mean man will leave soon or I'll call the police to have them come get their bro."

Liam steps forward, his hands on his hips and a wounded look on his face. His eyes are swollen like he's holding something back. "Bogey," he mutters, seeing the dog so scared.

"Did you not hear me?" I ask in a calm voice. My voice is cool, but anger drips from my words, my teeth clenched and bared. "I won't take more brownies to your mother if that's what you want, but enjoy watching her struggle to eat or watching her hurt just so you can feel morally superior. Get out of my house, Liam. Don't come back."

He inhales through his nose and bites his bottom lip. He doesn't say another word as he turns away and stomps from the room, slamming the front door as he leaves.