Jensen:: A Military Bad Boy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1) (5 page)

“Why are you so full of excuses for her?” I spit out, in disgust. “She’s the one who’s supposed to be there for
us
. She’s the mom and we’re the kids. But it’s never been like that. She’s chosen her no-good boyfriends and her booze and pills over us every single time she’s had the chance. So now you want us to care about
her
? Maybe it’s not ‘mental illness’ but just plain not giving a fuck who she hurts or how, whether it’s herself, or us, or Dad, or anyone.”

“Jensen, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ramsey says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately—”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“I just… I can’t help but care about her because she’s our mother. Definitely not the greatest mother but how can we just sit by while she destroys herself?”

“Let’s go to Knockouts,” Harlow says suddenly and decisively. It’s a rather seedy strip club that he likes to frequent.

“Nah.”

I blow off the idea. I’m glad he changed the direction of the conversation, but I don’t want to go to Knockouts.

“What? No scantily-clad dancing ladies for you tonight?” asks Harlow. “What’s gotten into you, brother?”

“It’s called conditions of release,” I lie. “I’m not even supposed to be in
here
, but a strip club is just asking for trouble.”

“Ah man, that sucks,” Harlow complains in a whiny voice.

Sometimes it seems he hasn’t changed much from when we were kids. Except that he
has
, a lot. But emotionally, he’s still our little brother, and it’s hard to separate my vision of this grown man who has been through so much— too much— with my vision of the 11-year-old kid brother who wants to steal all my video games or tag along as I try to go make out with girls for the first time.

“I’ll go with you for a while,” Ramsey volunteers.

He’s very protective of Harlow— of both of us, actually, but ever since Harlow’s accident he’s been particularly fatherly to him.

I’m glad to be let off the hook. And glad that neither of them called me out on my bullshit. It isn’t really conditions of release that have gotten into me. It’s a lawyer named Riley, who isn’t my type, who isn’t even in my realm of possibility, but who won’t get out of my goddamned head.

Chapter 5

I take the enchiladas out of the oven at 6:55, because my parents are due to arrive at seven. I can’t help but sneak a piece to test. I have to admit they taste delicious.

Carbs are my downfall. I try to exercise and eat well but I’m very busy and I often have to eat on the run. And when I do have time to cook, I like to enjoy what I make.

As I finish off the last bite and then set the table, I glance at the clock. My family is late, as usual, and I’m not surprised. Sometimes I wonder why they demand a nice home-cooked dinner once a month, if they can never be bothered to show up for it on time.

For once I have nothing to do but sit down and stew. How dare they be late. How dare Brian blow me off tonight. How dare Jensen not swoop me up on his way out of the holding room and make love to me right in front of the judge.

What the hell has gotten into me? …

The doorbell rings, interrupting my strange thought process.

“We were running so late, I didn’t have time to stop and pick up the cake,” my mom says right away, in lieu of a greeting. “Don’t be mad.”

Well great. Now there’s nothing for dessert. But that seems like small potatoes compared to all the other items on my list of gripes today.

“All right,” I tell her, and usher them in. “Who’s hungry?”

“Well, we know you are,” quips my sister Samantha. Her latest fashion trend clothing hangs off her skinny frame.

“Girls, don’t fight,” my mom says cheerfully.

I bite my tongue and begin serving the enchiladas.

“These are kind of cold,” says Samantha.

“The microwave is right over there,” I tell her, in a tone that even to me sounds chillier than the food she’s complaining about.

“Be nice to your little sister, Riley,” my dad says.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He insists on acting like my sister and I are still adolescents, except when he demands to know my career achievements and accomplishments.

“Where’s Brian?” asks Samantha. “Does he have cold feet already?”

“Very funny,” I say. “He had a networking event for work.”

“That’s nice. I guess he has his priorities in order. I might bring a guy I’ve been dating to your next dinner. He’s in finance. He’s, like, a billionaire.”

You don’t say
.

“And how’s work going?” Dad asks.

I swear he only comes to these dinners so he can check up on his investment of my law school tuition.

“It’s great, Dad. Mr. Holt and I are working on a really big case that’s going to trial soon. I get to handle a lot of the trial, which I’m really looking forward to, even though I’m nervous.”

“Will it make you partner?” Dad asks.

“It could definitely play a big role in it,” I tell him.

“Good. I can’t get over your luck. Engaged to the founding partner’s son. And now handling a trial with your bigshot future father-in-law.” He nods proudly as he eats the enchilada. “This is spicy.”

“I’m sorry.”

My parents don’t like spice and although I tend to use a lot of green Chile in my cooking, I tried to tone it down for them.

“It’s her hard work, dear, not her luck,” says my mom. I smile at her gratefully.

“Her hard work in the bedroom,” snickers Samantha, prompting me to glare at her.

And then my mom adds, “All those late nights spent studying, and now working, instead of having family time.”

I roll my eyes at one of my mom’s favorite complaints.

The rest of the dinner progresses “well,” as in, better than usual. But by the time it’s over, I’m anxious for them to leave so I say, “I need to work on a brief for a while tonight before I turn in.”

“Well, we will definitely get out of your hair,” my mom says, with a jealous pout.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” I quickly say.

“Let her work, Luanne,” my dad barks at her. “She has an important trial coming up, that she needs to do well on.”

It’s like he’s talking about my senior year AP Algebra test. And my mom wants to have family pizza and game night instead of letting me study. Some things never change.

“All I have to do tomorrow is get a pedicure,” Samantha chirps.

Some things
really
never change.

I walk them to the door, grateful that they’re leaving, although not looking forward to the pile of dirty dishes they left behind for me to wash.

An hour later, I sink into a tub full of bubbles and try to relax. Visions of Jensen soon return to my mind— it’s as if they never fully leave. I imagine him walking through the front door in a military uniform, bringing the cake that my mother forgot. We feed it to each other while undressing each other. He smears it all over my body and then licks it off me.

My hand sinks underneath the bubbles to pleasure myself the way that I wish Jensen would. If only I had chosen a guy like him instead of a guy like Brian, maybe my life would be a lot different right now.

Chapter 6

It’s a Saturday morning, and everything is peacefully quite at McKinnon Memorial Cemetery. I sit down next to my dad’s grave and run my hands over the inscription.

James Bradford:

Devoted Father and Beloved Friend.

Dylan seems convinced that I’ll be acquitted for the assault charge, but I’m not so sure. I haven’t always had the best luck in life, and nothing surprises me anymore. I woke up this morning wanting to come and visit with my dad, just in case I end up in the slammer for a while.

“Hey Dad, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks since I was last here,” I tell him.

I look around, still always afraid that someone will overhear me and think I’m a nut job for talking to my dead father, but I’m relieved to see that we’re alone. It’s too early for any funerals and there are no other gravesite visitors.

“I guess my case is going all right, but Harlow thinks Mom should be supporting me more, while Ramsey’s still of the opinion that we need to help Mom because she’s really gone off the deep end lately.”

I pause and take a breath, not even having to ask Dad his opinion on the matter, because even if he were here to share it with me, I’d already know what it was. My old man was loving to a fault. At one point I kind of lost respect for him because of it but with time I’ve been able to see that mercy and justice were things that he strongly believed in.