Affliction

“Gym clothes. I picked them up yesterday, do you like?” she sasses, and I’m so fucking close to kissing the sass out of her, but that would just be pushing it. Instead, I drop the pads, rip my shirt over my head and throw it at her.

“Put it on,” I demand as she catches it.

“What?” She jerks back, her eyes growing wide.

“Put the shirt on, now, Holly.” I punch out each word, not in the mood for games. She holds my gaze in anger and my shirt with disdain.

“What’s your problem?” she demands, mimicking my pose.

“You are my problem. You have no clothes on for starters. Why do you insist on making this harder on me when I’m already struggling?” I ask her, wanting an answer.

“It was a joke,” she huffs, putting the shirt on and covering her half-nakedness. The shirt falls to mid-thigh, and I don’t know what’s worse, seeing her in tight fitting gym clothes, or seeing her in one of my shirts.

“Fuck,” I growl, frustrated.

“What now?” she sighs, looking i

“Nothing. Now get your ass here so we can work out,” I boss her, picking up the pads and feeling better that no other fucker can see her. I didn’t realize just how hard this shit would be. I know I need to tread carefully, take it easy on her, but the more time we spend together, the easier it is to lose control. I just have to keep doing what I’m doing and pray she finally comes around. ‘Cause if she pulls any shit like that again, there will be no controlling my reaction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Holly

“Mom?” I call out, walking into my childhood home. The smell of her famous chicken wing marinade fills the air.

“In here,” she sing-songs from her favorite place in the house: her kitchen.

“Hey.” I round the corner to see her preparing lunch for our Saturday grill out.

“Hey doll, how are you?” she questions, looking up from the kitchen island and giving me a huge smile. She looks beautiful today, not that she doesn’t normally, but put together. Her pale blouse looks new and her tawny brown hair is blown back away from her face. I can see she’s put a light coating of mascara on her eyelashes, making her blue eyes seem bigger.

“I’m good, Mom. How are you?” I come forward around the large stone-top bench and kiss her cheek as she dries her hands on her apron. Our kitchen is huge and holds so many warm memories of growing up. It’s the kitchen where I bonded with my mother. We’d spend our early evenings here when I was a teenager talking about school, friends and boys while she taught me how to cook. If I needed to find my mother, I would walk into this room, and more often than not, she would be here, baking away or preparing something to feed us for our next meal.

“I’ll be better when your father sorts out his new grill.” She rolls her eyes at my father and his new toys.

“He bought a new one?”

“Don’t ask me why. He’s only had the last one for barely a year, but he insisted.” She smiles, shaking her head at my dad. After thirty years, my parents are still happily married. She loves his a

“How’s work?” she asks, moving over to the fridge to retrieve more tomatoes.

“Getting there, slowly building up my clients,” I fill her in. We normally talk every other day, but since I’ve been back at work and spending more time with Sy, I’ve been neglecting her. I know she’s suspecting something is up.

“Well, that’s good, honey. I knew you would do well there.” She continues to chop away, making her famous salad.

“Where’s Sam?” I ask, grabbing a glass down from one of the cupboards and try not to let out a cry of pain. After working out with Sy all week, I feel like a truck has hit me. I’ve never been so sore from exercise. The first day I woke up, I thought I was sick. It wasn’t until I said something to Sy the other day that he told me it was a good thing. After a hot bath every night, I try to stretch out the worst of it.

“Ohh, Sam is bringing a girl. He just called earlier.” She sounds excited, like the thought of her boy bringing home a date is something she has been waiting for forever.

“Sam is bringing a girl home?” I ask, shocked, and then realize why she looks so together today. She dressed up to meet her.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Sam cuts me off as he walks into the kitchen. I’m about to drill him when at the last second I see a small, pretty blonde girl come in behind him.

“Oh, hello.” Mom stops her chopping and dries her hands to greet Sam’s new girl.

“Mom, this is Claire. Claire, this beautiful woman is my mom, Melinda, and my sister, Holly.” He points to both of us.

“Well, look at you.” My mom takes her in her arms, and embraces her like a long lost daughter. I try not to groan as she embarrasses the poor girl.

“Mom, let her go. You’re scaring her,” Sam finally says, trying to pry Claire out of our mom’s arms.

“Oh, hush.” Mom swats him away while keeping Claire at arm’s length. “Let me get a good look at you. Oh, you’re such a doll,” she says, looking her over. I can already tell my mom is in love. She only calls her favorite people dolls. Claire smiles shyly and a light blush coats her cheeks. I can tell she is perfect for my brother. He is demanding, bossy and too pigheaded to go head to head with a similar match. No, he needs someone soft and sweet; someone who gets under his skin in another way. I have no doubt Claire already has by the way he’s looking uneasy for her.

“Hi.” I smile and wave over at her, hoping to stop my mom from freaking her out. Sam must like her if he brought her home, and we don’t want to scare her away. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She smiles back and gives an awkward wave.

“Where’s Dad?” Sam asks, taking Claire’s hand and tucking her back into his side.

“Outside fixing the grill. Go help him. He’s been grumbling all afternoon about it.”

“Come on, baby, let’s go see my dad,” he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. I’ve never seen my brother this way before, and of all the emotions ru

“Oh, my gosh, she is beautiful.” Her hands come out in front of her, expressing her excitement. “Who would have thought he would meet someone so soft and beautiful,” she sighs, lost in the moment. Oh, God, Mom.

“Calm down, Mom. You’ll scare her off.”

“Oh, please, I wouldn’t scare anyone off.” She goes back to her salad. She’s right. My mom’s pretty kickass, and everyone loves her. It would take a lot not to like my mom.

“You’re right, but if you don’t calm down, you might scare me off.” I smile as I fill up a glass with some wine.

She stops and looks up, “How are you feeling?” she asks, taking on a serious tone. She asks me this question every time I see her, and as much as I love her for it, sometimes it’s just nice to not have to answer.

“I’m good, Mom,” I assure her, knowing it’s the best way. I don’t want to tell her that this week I had a major panic attack in the middle of the changing room, or that I woke up in a sweat from a nightmare twice. I don’t even want to tell her that spending time with Sy has helped me either. I know she is only looking out for me, but I hate seeing the concern fill her eyes when she knows what a crappy week I’ve had.

“Well, that’s good, baby,” she smiles, leaving it be for today and going back to making sure lunch will be on time.