Washed Up (Bayside Heroes)

“I know. It’s… complicated,” I explain, grabbing the back of my neck.

Because I’ve got it bad for your mom.

“Isn’t it always?” he jokes, oblivious. “Look, if I learned anything when dating Julia, it’s that the best things you can do are to be honest and communicate.” He holds up a finger for each word to demonstrate. “That’s it. If you do those two things, the rest will fall into place.”

I suppress a laugh, thinking about the repercussions of those two things in my current situation.

“Thanks, man,” I say.

For a long, quiet pause, I watch David as he pulls up some stupid video on his phone, showing it to me before typing back to whoever sent it to him. I note how he’s grown up, but how I still see the same kid I used to hang out with, the kid who learned how to stand up for himself, not just with the bullies at school — but with his father.

I can’t imagine growing up in the household he did, with a mom who loved him fiercely and did everything she could to protect him, but a father who would dote on him one minute, and fly off the handle the next.

He went from being a little boy who thought his dad was Superman, to a teenager who realized his dad was a drunk.

I watched him step up, watched him get between his mom and dad for the first time ever and tell Josh enough was enough. He was big enough to do it, too — big enough to make Josh think twice before trying anything when David was around.

He protected Amanda. In many ways, he saved her. And even now, when he has his own family to care for, he still makes sure his mom is okay, that she knows she’s done the right thing by leaving Josh, and that she knows she’s not alone.

I want to tell him I’m proud of him. I want to tell him I respect the man he’s become.

I want to tell him how I feel about Amanda.

The urge to do so sucker punches me out of nowhere, a flash of fear spiking my heart rate. I can’t imagine a scenario where he’d be okay with it, but he’s more mature than most men twice his age. He’s been through more than men twice his age.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe if I’m just honest with him, if I communicate everything, it will work out better than I think. Maybe if he understood how I feel about her, how I would do anything to see her happy…

“David,” I start, but he looks at me for only a split second before his eyes catch behind me, and they go wide as sand dollars, mouth dropping open like he just saw a shooting star.

“Holy shit, Mom.”

I whip around as David starts laughing and claps his hands, but I can’t join him. I can’t cheer or smile or do anything other than gape at the angelic creature that just descended the last few steps of the staircase.

I’ve seen Amanda in workout shorts and loose t-shirts, in sweatpants and baggy sweaters, in jeans and tank tops and a dozen casual things in between.

She always looks beautiful.

But this…

A knot forms in my chest as I take in the length of her, how her chestnut hair is shiny and curled, framing her face. Her lips are painted a ruby red, her eyes smokey and alluring, lined with black and accented by long, dark lashes.

I gulp as my gaze trails down, as I note the plunging neckline of her emerald green dress. It hugs every curve, every inch of her breasts, her waist, her hips, her thighs, before finally flowing into a soft wave around her feet. That neckline alone is enough to kill a man on sight, her ample cleavage displayed proudly. Her hips steal the eye next, voluptuous where they stretch the satin fabric, and her thighs do the same, thick and enticing.

She’s not just beautiful.

She’s a fucking knockout.

A bombshell.

A goddamn hurricane.

It takes me a while to finally drag my eyes up to meet hers again, and when I do, she’s looking at me, too. She flushes, ever so slightly, and then holds her chin high and struts past me into the kitchen.

“You can’t wear that,” David says on a laugh, pointing to her chest. “Not without a vest or a sweater or a sheet or something.”

“I’m a forty-seven-year-old woman, David. I can where whatever I want.”

“You’re going to cause a car wreck.”

“I’ll be in a restaurant.”

Even though I’m pretty sure David was quite serious with his remarks, he must realize it’s a losing battle, because he sighs and shakes his head and kisses his mother’s cheek.

“You look great,” he says. “Now, when do I get to meet and properly threaten this guy?”