Stealing Her (Covet 1)

She was silent and then whispered, “He’s your brother. That means the part of him that is good, the part that you loved, the part I still love is there, honey. You know he never knew how to express himself well, and your father wasn’t exactly nurturing. None of us are perfect.”

“He won’t even come see you!” I roared. Pain flared to life in my ribs as I jumped to my feet. “He pretends you don’t exist.”

“He did.” She said it quietly, shamefully.

“He did what?”

“Visit.” She sniffed. “Last year. You were at work. He brought cash during Christmastime, that’s how I got you the new flat-screen. I’m sorry, I just wanted you to have something nice. He said he would bring more money. He started calling every week, and then he told me that he had to wait for some deal to go through, said he needed to talk to you. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed harder. “It’s my fault. You were just so angry with him, and he said it was important, and then I got sicker. That was a week before the accident.”

“You think he was worried Dad was gonna try something?”

“Your father is a dangerous man. Now that he’s aging, he’s worse than before. He has two brilliant sons ready to take over and make something great, and I think he’s afraid. And fear is never a good sign.”

“I’m safe, Mom, I promise, and I’ll tell—” My voice cracked. “I’ll tell Jules you said hi.”

“I love you, son.” She sounded like she was crying. “You tell him to fight, alright?”

“Alright.” I choked up. “I love you . . . so much.”

She ended the call.

I stared at my phone.

And then jerked to my feet when the bathroom door shoved open, revealing a pissed-off Izzy. “You love who exactly?” She paced in front of me, hairbrush in hand. “I can’t believe I took you for your word! Who was it this time, the same maid? Different one? Marla? Hmm? I’m such an idiot!” She threw the hairbrush, narrowly missing my recently healed eye.

I ducked and then grabbed her around the waist. She elbowed me in a few ribs I knew were still broken, driving me to my knees in pain.

“Good. I hope you hurt! You promised!”

“Izzy,” I wheezed. “That was my mom.”

“What?” She froze. “You never talk about your mom. In fact, the last time I asked about her you left midconversation and went into your office to pout!”

Damn it, Julian, why didn’t you talk to her?

It wasn’t like Izzy was hard to talk to!

“Dad pretends that she doesn’t exist. I reconnected with her right before the accident.” Partially true. “I found out she’s really sick, and I wanted to help out. Last night she texted me that she was back in the ER.” The only way to keep the lie straight was to tell the truth. My chest felt heavy as I relayed the information.

Izzy shook her head, her eyes narrowed. “So you’ve kept her from me for almost our entire life together? And just now want to reconnect? I’m calling your bluff. Wow, the girl must have a magical v—”

“I’ll put up with a lot, Izzy, but talking about my mom in any way that’s negative . . .” I stood to my full height. “I won’t allow that. Ever.”

Izzy looked at me, really looked at me. “Say I believe you. Does your father know?”

“What do you think?” I spat. “He knows. He just doesn’t fucking care. He cheated on her, she left, end of story.” I ran my hands through my hair. “He’s finally paying for some bills, but he doesn’t actually care, no.”

Izzy held out her hand. “I want to FaceTime the last number called.”

“Trust runs deep,” I muttered, praying to God my mom would not only answer but know exactly what to say as I handed Izzy my phone.

She hit the FaceTime on the screen and waited.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

“Bridge? Is that you?”

Izzy glared at the screen. “Bridge? No, this is Julian’s fiancée. I’m calling from his phone. Who the heck is Bridge?”

Mom’s mouth dropped open, and then she pasted a blank expression on her face. “I’m so sorry, honey. Bridge is a nickname I used to call Julian. When he was five he peed his pants on a bridge because it was so high, and the nickname kind of stuck.”

Son of a bitch! Thrown under the bus by my own mom? Granted, the story was true, but it was actually about me, not Julian. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

Izzy stared, and stared, and then burst out laughing, wiping tears from her eyes. My mom joined in while I glared at both of them. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

“You should have seen him when he discovered he had a pee-pee. Was so proud of that thing he whipped it out in the grocery store!” I hadn’t seen my mom laugh that hard in a really long time, the only reason I wasn’t losing my shit. Her smile always did me in. Every single day it was her smile I lived for, I fought for, I wanted to earn.