Loving Taylor - Loving Bad Series (Sample of Published Book)

Chapter 3 - Part 2

But no matter how much it angered me, there was no way to know who had done it. I couldn't even prove that it had happened at all. I trusted my gut feeling that there was no way she could have gotten that drunk that quickly.

Thinking of her and what happened last night only reaffirmed what I had already noticed. She was innocent—far more so than the girls I usually associated with.

Even with the warnings going off in my head she still piqued my curiosity. Before, the first sign of innocence and I would have shut it down before it had a chance. Hell, I had given her an open invitation. What was I doing?

My mood hadn't improved later that day when my mom called again. For a few seconds I debated avoiding this call but I let out a sigh before I answered it.

"Sin." Her familiar voice breathed my name. Each time she said my name I was reminded of why she had named me that. I was a constant reminder of a mistake that had been life-changing. It didn't matter that I hadn't really had any part in it, yet I still carried the burden of it.

Most people would be comforted by the sound of their parent's voice, but not me. It set me on edge with an undercurrent of anger. I raked a hand through my hair as I leaned back in my chair, still facing my laptop. I'd been busy with an assignment.

"Mom," I said tightly, trying to soothe the anger that she created in me.

I understood she wasn't the same person but it didn't just erase a past I was trying to forget. But I could still feel that old, familiar fear of being alone with my stomach grumbling for my next meal. I gritted my teeth as I rode the spike of anger in my emotions.

I didn't owe her anything. But something stopped me from cutting her out of my life. Was it the fear that I would feel worse if I let her die without forgiveness?

"How are you?" she asked stiffly.

We didn't have a close mother-and-son relationship. We were still trying to fix years of problems.

"I'm fine," I said tightly, unable to pretend I was happy to hear from her.

She was sober now. But it was only because she had to give it up or die.

"How's college?" she asked.

"It's busy," I said as I stood up. Feeling restless, I began to pace my room.

"I miss you."

Her words cut right through me. Why hadn't she missed me when she had left me on my own to fend for myself? I hated how she could affect me still. The tightening in my chest made me want to disconnect the call and shake off the memories I didn't want to face.

"How are you feeling?" I sidestepped her previous statement, trying to push through the conversation like she hadn't said it.

"Some days are good, some days aren't."

I nodded as I held the phone tighter, biting back the retort that she had brought it on herself. Most days of my childhood had just been bad. I looked out the window, trying to concentrate on the activity outside, wanting to be anywhere but here talking to my mom.

"Do you need anything?" I asked before thinking it through.

Usually I kept our conversations short without any avenue to deviate into a deeper, more meaningful talk that I tried to avoid at all costs.

The silence only increased the foreboding that she was going to take the chance to ask for more than I could give her.

"No, I'm fine," she replied, letting me off the hook.