Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Ma?!” Even louder and more rambunctious greetings escape as I dart over to her. “What are you doin’ here?!”
“I was invited.”
Hugging the woman who is just under five feet tall isn’t done gently.
Or carefully.
People mistake her tiny size for being delicate all the time.
Watching her put them in their place is still one of my favorite things to see.
“Hi, Ma!” my girlfriend squeaks and rushes our way to takeover hugging duties. “I didn’t know I’d get to see you tonight!”
“Neither did I,” I casually retort in tandem with giving them space.
“I’m in town for a few days,” she announces after they part, “and Ace invited me to join y’all.”
The smile that finds its way to my lips is wide and proud.
Sure.
Having me kidnapped tore their marriage apart but getting me returned gave them a chance to do something most split couples don’t get to.
Reconcile.
And they did.
They coparented – and in some ways still fucking coparent me at almost forty – so goddamn well they should’ve written a book about the shit. Everything from diets to dating to the decision about how to handle my deployments was done together with Linda. Ma never saw the woman as a threat but just another person to protect me. To light a candle for. To have in our family to guide and love me whenever I needed it. And Kolby? She loves the little shit too and has always respected that we were raised differently.
I’m lucky.
On one hand, I missed out on so fucking much, yet on the other, it ended up giving me so much too.
“What are you in town for?” Arley inquires as we drop down into the seats beside Dad and Linda.
Ma waits until she’s properly seated in the seat to my right. “My gentleman caller.”
Her words drop my jaw but have my woman croaking, “Like a sex worker?!”
There’s no stopping the stunned expression from being shot to Angel Cake.
“What’s a sex worker?” Ma ponders out loud on a quirked eyebrow. “Are those what the women on the picture app are doing?”
Arley cocks her head in confusion. “Picture app?”
“Instagram,” Linda interjects, joining the conversation.
“Oh!” the woman I’ve sworn to protect with or without a contract that tells me to do so squeaks. “No! Those are mainly just thirst traps.”
“But I’m not thirsty.”
“This is gettin’ off course,” Dad chuckles and lifts his beer. “Gabs is not seein’ a male hooker-”
“Is hooker gender specific?” Angel Cake needlessly wonders.
“She’s in town visiting her boyfriend.”
“Your. What?!” I boom loud enough to crack the ice.
What. The. Fuck. Is going on?!
“That’s what I said, Ace.”
“That’s not quite what you said, Gabs.”
“Well, it’s what I meant.”
“Which isn’t what you said.”
“Excuse. Me.” Sitting up completely straight has me removing my arm from around Arley. “Could someone please fuckin’ clarify this shit for me?” The ticking of my jaw is difficult to ignore. “Now.”
“Oh, look, Kolby’s on the ice!” Linda uncomfortably gestures, hoping to redirect everyone’s gaze to him. “Woooo! Let’s go Kolby!”
“They call him WonderWahl,” Arley verbally points out only to then physically do the same causing her charm bracelet to sway. “See on that sign over there. And there. Oh! And there!”
His mother’s shoulders drop in a melting fashion. “I’m not used to seeing so many of his fans like this.”
“Let’s go, Wahl!” is shouted from someone below us and I momentarily stop scowling to smirk.
I am proud of the kid too.
He’s come a long fucking way.
We’ve put in the same dedication to our respective areas with the main difference being he protects on the ice while I protect off.
His two minutes on the ice flies by in what feels like a blink, yet the entire time he’s out there skating and checking and eventually cross checking – getting himself put in the box – none of us take our eyes off of him out of silent solidarity.
After the announcer does his job of proclaiming the penalty – one that was accurate versus bias – I resume my earlier consternation. “Ma, what do you mean you have a boyfriend?” I turn in my seat so that we’re face to face. “Since when? Who is he? I want his name. DOB. Address. License plate. Previous places of employment. Criminal record-”
“This is probably why she didn’t tell you,” my girlfriend playfully pokes over my shoulder.
“Mijo-”
“Don’t mijo me, Ma,” I huff, poorly hiding my outrage. “How the hell could you be datin’ someone and not think your son should know?!”
“Perhaps because I don’t keep track of every cochina, Daisy Duke wearing fast ass girl that walks in and out of his day, so I don’t think it’s any of his business who I allow in mine.” She peers around me to politely declare. “Excluding you in that collection, ángel.”
“Thank you,” Arley giggles damn near having me abandon this conversation to explain my mother’s exaggeration.