Fold

And since Juan's—along with the other sales representatives—phone lines are still blowing up around me, I give myself a pat on the back for doing a good job.

Then I whip out my notepad and brainstorm some new catchy ad ideas to post for the upcoming week.

I'm typing up one for our special Pretty Kitty G-spot vibrator when my cell rings.

I press the button co

There's a throat clear that's distinctly masculine. “Kit Bishop.”

I recognize the disdain in his tone immediately. “How did you get this number, Reggie?”

“Reginald,” he corrects. “And I'm calling on behalf of your grandmother.”

“Well, I certainly didn't think you were calling me to hang out and catch a movie. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. I'd appreciate it if you'd lose my number.”

I go to hang up, but his next statement stops me in my tracks. “She's dying.”

“What?”

His words are like a kick to the stomach and it sends a flurry of emotions through me. Other than my piece of shit uncle, this woman is the only family I have. Yes, she was ruthless and mean. And God knows I hated her punishments, rules, and how cruel she could be.

But I also can't help but remember the times she wasn't so cold. Like when I found out my parents died, and she held me as I cried my heart out and promised she would always take care of me.

“It's cancer,” he says softly. “Last year she was diagnosed with throat cancer and the prognosis was good. However, two weeks ago she was diagnosed with lung cancer. Given it's in the advanced stage, she's chosen not to undergo treatment. She doesn't have long, Kit. Maybe a month or two at most.”

My chest grows heavy and I squeeze my eyes shut.

The promise she made to that inconsolable little girl turned out to be a lie. She didn't support me when I realized I was gay—she condemned me instead. And she couldn't be bothered to come to the hospital after the shooting, or when I ended up in jail. Basically, all the times I needed her. Or rather, the times I needed to be loved and taken care of more than I needed her judgments and disapproval.

I swallow the tears threatening to break free. I can't bring myself to mourn a woman who made me wish I was dead so many times I lost count. A woman I deemed important, all because my parents appointed her to be their placeholder. A woman who spoke to me via punishments and threats, instead of words and understanding.

A woman whose idea of love was taking a hammer to all the parts of me she didn't approve of—until I was broken...just like her promise.

“Sorry, Reg. I tried digging deep to find a fuck or two to give, but I came up empty. Have a—”

“She can't speak,” he interjects. “Perhaps that will sway your decision to see her.”

“It doesn't.”

“She's been asking for you.” The desperate twinge in his voice is indisputable.

“I thought you said she couldn't speak?”

“She doesn't. She refuses to use her electrolarynx, so she communicates with her notepad.”

“Goodbye, Reg—”

“Wait,” he says before I disco

With that, he hangs up the phone.

It rings again almost immediately, and I don't hesitate to answer. “Do you really think threatening me will work?”

“Who the heck is threatening you?” Breslin questions.

I massage my temples. “I thought you were my Na

“Not to be insensitive, but why are they only figuring this out now? Your parents have been gone for years, you'd think—”

“She has cancer...it's terminal. The lawyer probably came across it when he was preparing her will.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “I'm so sorry, Kit.”

I start to speak, but she curses and says, “Asher's team is in the playoffs on Sunday. But maybe if I fly in tomorrow, and we show up at—”

“No.” I need to nip this in the bud before Breslin ends up missing the biggest game of Asher's career. “If something goes wrong and your return flight is delayed, or you accidentally miss it altogether, Asher will be heartbroken. I'll be fine, B. Asher needs you.”

“I know, but I don't want you to go off the deep end again.”

Her concern makes me want to reach through the phone and hug her. “I won't, I promise. I can handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? I've already lost my parents, so it's not like I can lose them again. This is nothing more than her trying to get one last dig at me before she croaks.”

“Yeah, you have a point. But promise you'll call me if you need me. I can catch the next flight after the game and—”

Woof.

“I swear to God!” Asher yells in the background. “It's like he wants me to lose the playoff game. That's it, I'm tossing your treats in the pool, you mutt.”

Woof.

“Maybe Picasso peeing on it makes it extra lucky,” Landon offers. “Ever think of that?”

Breslin sighs. “Here we go again.”

I laugh. “Go take care of your dog...and your men.”