Nobody Knows (SWAT Generation 2.0 11)

“It’s not. It’s actually a quite nice day,” Grans disagreed.

Of course, my father talked over her like he always did.

“Our house was destroyed by a hurricane,” my father murmured, his eyes moving around just like my mother’s had. “We had to come home while the renovations are taking place. There was nowhere for us to stay.”

“There isn’t a place for you here anymore. As you can see, I rent this place out, and she signed an ironclad contract with me,” Grans said, sounding not the least bit apologetic as she looked my father in the eyes and lied.

My mother turned to Sierra then.

“Now,” she said sweetly, pouring on all that sweet, southern charm that she could so easily fake. “I’m sure that you don’t want to see two elderly people displaced, now do you?”

“You’re not seriously trying to kick my pregnant girlfriend out of her house, are you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at my mother as if I’d never seen her before.

But I’d seen her.

Oh, how I’d seen her.

Which was terrible because a mother was supposed to be sweet, and caring, and loving.

My mother? She was none of those things.

The day that I’d left for bootcamp? They didn’t see me off. They didn’t come to my graduation from boot camp or my swearing-in ceremony. The day that I graduated high school? I spent it with Luca’s family and not my own because mine had decided to go on a cruise. The day that I graduated bootcamp? Again, Luca’s family and my grans, who had driven eighteen hours all by herself when she hated driving.

Hell, now that I thought about it, I barely ever saw them very much. When I did, it was to receive a reprimand, for them to remind me what a disappointment I was, or both.

“I’m… what?” My mother gasped, her hand going to her throat as if she couldn’t quite believe the news.

“Congrats, you’re going to be a grandmother. Would you like him or her to call you ‘grandma’ or ‘grandmother?’ Grans is, of course, forever taken.” I rolled my eyes hard. “Now, it’d be super if you could get out.”

My mother’s face was fucking priceless.

The look of abject horror on her face was awe-inspiring.

“I’d… I think that she could call me Marilyn,” she admitted. “If she or he had to address me at all.”

I grumbled something under my breath, and the little giggle-ass on the couch couldn’t hold her laughter in any longer.

I shot her an amused scowl—one that was new for me seeing as those happy emotions didn’t usually happen for me.

“What are you naming her?” Grans asked. “Marilyn and Deon?”

“Actually,” Sierra said. “I was thinking Lucille. I could call her Lucy for short.”

Grans gasped in shock.

I looked at Sierra.

She knew Grans’ name.

I’d spoken about my grandmother, Lucille, thousands of times over the course of our letters.

The fact that she was saying that meant that she was actually thinking that.

“Lucy is an older name. You should probably go with something newer, more modern age, so she’ll fit in. It was always so embarrassing for me to be named after my mother.” My mother flipped her hair as if she hadn’t just insulted my girl’s choices on names.

“Why are you here again?” I asked, pushing my annoyance hard so that I didn’t lash out in anger like I wanted to.

My mother crossed her arms over her chest.

But it was my father who answered.

“I’ve already explained why we’re here,” he said. “We’re coming home, and we want to stay in our house.”

“It’s not really your house, nor has it ever been your house,” I pointed out.

Axe came up to press his nose into my hand, and I looked at my grans in thanks that she’d let him in.

She winked at me.

Damn, she was something.

To be able to stand in the presence of Marilyn and Deon Stokes and not shed a tear when they were playing the poor, pitiful me card? That took guts.

But, I guessed that it helped that she knew the type of people that my parents were.

“We better go or we’re going to be late,” Sierra said as she stood up, totally and completely ignoring my parents. “Grans, are you coming with us?”

Oh, man.

I was marrying this girl.

She didn’t know it yet, but she was already mine.

“Sure am, honey,” Grans said. “I’m sorry, Marilyn and Deon. We’re going to have to ask you to leave, as we have a prior engagement.”

My mother and father were pissed as Grans ushered them out of the house.

I watched from the kitchen window as they walked down the path instead of cutting across the yard to their car.

Once they got to their car, they opened it up, got in, and just sat there.

“We’re actually going to have to leave,” Grans said. “Or they’re going to just come back.”