Revive (Storm MC 3)

“Fuck, Erika, why do you always have to be so fuckin’ understanding of stuff? For once, why can’t you join the rest of us and admit what a prick he is? And that Carla needs to open her eyes and see what’s right in front of her.”

“I’m not understanding,” she huffed, “I’m just giving you my opinion on why she is the way she is.”

Before I could say anything more, Jamison made his entrance, his arms full with flowers, wine and chocolate. He lifted his chin at me before filling the kitchen table with his gifts, and asked, “You in trouble again, shithead?”

“Always,” I grinned at Erika who rolled her eyes at me. I nodded at the stuff he’d put on the table, “What are you sucking up to Mum for?”

“It’s Mother’s Day, you’re supposed to bring presents. You were probably too busy screwing some chick to go shopping, weren’t you?”

I smirked at him, “Well, if you’ve got it, use it. Next time you feel the urge to hit the shops, just send your woman over to me; I’ll take care of her for you.”

“Now see that’s where you’re wrong, little brother. The way I treat a woman when I take her shopping? Guarantees me the best fucking orgasm when I get her home.”

Erika butted in, “God, will you two ever grow up?” She’d finished with the casserole and was now cleaning up. Pointing at the cupboards, she said, “Nash, you need to set the table; Jamison, you can help me with the food.”

Anyone would have thought that Erika was the oldest from the way she bossed us around. I saluted her. “Yes, boss.”

She paused for a moment, and asked, “Why can’t you always just do what I say?”

“My middle name’s not easy, babe.”

Jamison chuckled. “You sure about that? I reckon we could find a football stadium of women who would disagree with that.”

Grinning, I nodded, “Probably right there, asshole.”

Erika just shook her head at me and Jamison continued laughing. The earlier tension between my sister and I had eased but the heaviness in my chest lingered. Mother’s Day never failed to fuck with me and today she’d dug her claws in deep.

***

“Will I see you again this week?” my mother asked as she hugged me goodbye.

“Probably not, I’ve got a lot going on at the club.”

She let me go and I reached for Carla. Wrapping my arms around her, I whispered in her ear, “You need to ditch that asshole.”

She tried to pull away from me but I tightened my hold on her.

“Nash, let me go,” she complained, fighting me.

Doing as she asked, I stepped back and caught her gaze, “You deserve so much better. I wish you could see that.”

“Yeah, like you do too,” she countered.

“I don’t fuckin’ deserve anything,” I muttered, and turned to Erika. “You still having problems with your neighbour?”

“Yeah, he’s getting worse, playing his music loud till all hours and yelling abuse at me whenever I try and talk to him about it. I actually think he’s got a mental health problem, because he’s so up and down.”

I scowled. “Doesn’t excuse his behaviour. Call me the next time it happens, okay?”

She sighed. “Nash, you’ll only make things worse. I think I’ll just call the police next time.”

“Fuck that, Erika. They’ll do jack shit. You let me talk to him once and he won’t give you grief again.”

She raised a brow. “So you’ll talk to him? Or will you resort to your favourite way of dealing with stuff?”

“Babe, my favourite way of doing stuff is with my mouth.” I winked at her. She was far too uptight.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”