Tell Me Your Truths

Chapter 4: Ayla

"Mom!" I shout for the third time when my plea for her to get the door fell on deaf ears. I might have to sock the official number one dickhead on my list that's currently standing at my front porch.

I stomp my way down the stairs throwing the front door wide open not bothering to look through the small peephole. "The doorbell works perfectly, thank you for the test run."

To my surprise, Cole's grin greets me with a bouquet of red roses in hand. "You're in a good mood. Will this compensate for anything?"

He shoves the flowers my way but the frown on my forehead was still ever present. "No," I utter, taking the bouquet either way. "Kiss ass."

Shit, he's a little early. I grab my handbag from behind the door, shoving it in his hands in place of the roses. "Be a doll and wait for me in the car."

I try to slow my fidgeting at Cole's presence just mere feet from my mother.

My mother, who used to be a drug addict, should never be near the likes of Cole.

She was clean for years now after checking herself into a rehab center where she met her ex-fiancé. We were living in Sunview at the time. Like in all fairytales, she fell for the handsome prince who saves her in the form of being her light through a dark tunnel.

So, when they were cleared from rehab, Charlie asked her to move in with him here in Ridgewood Bay. You'd think in the thirteen years we spent together, she'd actually consider how I felt. But I guess not all happy endings come without a price. In this case, the price was my life in Sunview.

But the story of princesses and ponies had to end sometime.

When I started dating Cole during my freshman year, I laid out the ground rules of our relationship. The most important was to never tell my mother about my side job dealing for him. I know dabbling in the business of what sent my mother into a frenzied fit of convulsions and euphoria was such an irony that was neither comedic nor a drama.

I was afraid she was going to relapse again. Considering now that she ended her engagement at my expense. It hit her pretty hard.

The second rule was that Cole never sets foot inside my house. I don't care if he wants to meet my mother, he would just have to settle for a substitute blonde woman with a sharp nose who would cater to his desire because any proximity where my mother can get a whiff of molly was never allowed. I don't give a rat's ass if he was the love of my life. I've kept our relationship on the deep end so why ruin my good streak?

Cole's legs doesn't seem to work because he stands there expecting . . . I don't know what the hell he was still expecting from me. "What are you doing?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I think it's time for me to meet your mother, don't you think?"

My eyes bulge, alarm bells resounding inside my head.

It's not that I don't want him to meet my mom, I just think it would be a great idea for that to happen under different circumstances. Like leaving his illegal business behind.

I know it was stupid of me to hope for that to happen considering he made it clear that had no plans on giving up his drug empire. But a girl could always dream, right? 

I laugh. "And pigs could fly. Just wait for me. I'll be down in a sec."

Shoving the door against his face, he wedged his stubborn foot between the doorframe. I mentally slap myself for not pushing the door closed faster. "Seriously, why won't you want me to meet her?

"Cole, we've been through this a hundred times. I don't want her near you." 

"Flattering, but she's not my type." I roll my eyes. "Is there something else going on?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

His right palm gripped my arm at an unexpected force I don't think he even noticed. Still hurts the same. "Is there another reason why you won't let me meet your mom, Ayla?"

I squirm from his grip but he doesn't show signs of letting up, not until I gave him an answer he liked. "I already told you I don't want you to bring that weed s**t into my house. Jesus, Cole, stop being a fuckin' baby." His fist tightened.

Opal eyes scan mine for any sign of lies or any emotion that would confirm his suspicions.

I jerk when I could feel him cutting the circulation of my blood through my arm. "Cole, you're hurting me."

That seems to snap him out of his trance because he quickly lets me go. My hand instinctively fly to my arm that I was sure would leave a handprint tomorrow. I hated the fact that I easily bruise like a peach.

I know he didn't mean it, especially with a build like his. Sometimes, he just underestimates his strength. He cups my cheek, rubbing smooth circles against it making me lean over to his touch. 

For all of Cole's troubles, I know he loves me and I love him. We don't say it much but I know he does otherwise he wouldn't have put up with me for so long. Sometimes, I think he's the best I'll ever have. He was good to me, takes care of me. Somehow that's hard to find.

My smile is slow and sympathetic. "Are you worried my mom's not going to like you?"

"Kind of." That made my heart melt. Three years with the guy and he never fails to make my heart flutter at his insecurities. Which were close to none so I savor eat every vulnerability he shows me.

"Yeah, well, she definitely won't like you." I push his hand away from my cheek instantly missing its warmth.

"Who knows, maybe I'd gain her favor if I offered her a month's worth of Oxytocin. What do you think?" 

Just like that, all the butterflies in my stomach scampered. "Don't you dare joke about that." I point a finger at him. 

He chuckles at his own joke that I don't find the tiniest bit funny. When he noticed my grim expression, his face falls. "Alright. I'm sorry. You're being too sensitive, babe." 

I might be, but f**k it if he doesn't know my boundaries.

"Wait in the car." I slam the door in his face, and this time there was no foot wedging.

I run up the stairs to grab my jacket and look for Mom before I head out with Cole. 

Trudging through the hall toward her room, I don't find her there. Though, the smell of her burning scented candle brings me back to the last time I set foot in the room she shared with Charlie. 

There are times where an ounce of jealousy seeps through at the thought that Sierra and Julian made it out of Ridgewood Bay on their own. No responsibilities, just them living together doing their own thing with Sierra's college and Julian's professional start-up to racing.

 And there I was in my mother's old room, packing her clothes for her because she couldn't be bothered to do the simple task alone. I know she was dallying, prolonging the days of actually moving out from the comfort of Charlie's mansion by excusing she simply forgot.

I planned on taking Charlie to court what with all the evidence I've piled up against him, but one look on my mother's shattered face, I knew she couldn't handle it. The court hearings were too much for her. 

So Charlie and I came to an agreement which included the house and my mother's money.

It's been three months since we've moved to this house yet it still didn't feel like home. Nothing really feels like home anymore when you've gotten so used to moving from place to place.

When I get to the living room, I see Mom asleep on the couch. How long she’s been that way, I don’t know. I’m betting she ignored the doorbell on purpose not wanting to get up from her lazy haze. She’s been this way for awhile now since the separation. I know she’s devastated with the separation.

I nudge her. “Mom.” When she doesn’t answer, I put my finger on her neck checking for a pulse. I instantly feel the thrum of her heartbeat.

It’s not my first rodeo checking for her vital sign. There were multiple times I thought God never favored her anymore and finally let her overdose. Multiple calls to the police and they taught me how to spot a pulse on a person’s neck at the age of ten. Sunview’s police department was s**t, which I was thankful for or else I would’ve been put in the system already since the grandma who took care of me wasn’t exactly my grandma. Marge was a nice lady who lived in the same shitty apartment complex Mom was fond of trusting in taking care of me while she gets high on opioids.

Never complained one bit. I remember the promise I made to her the day before we left. I just hope that it won’t come to that one day.

I know Mom had been sober for years now, I guess it was a force of habit. Still, I blow out a relieved sigh to know she was still in the land of the living. 

I kick the couch hard making her stir beneath her blanket. My mom needs everything but coddling. I tried to make her see that she needed to get her s**t together but like all else, it falls on deaf ears. Sometimes I got tired of playing nice.

“I’m heading out. Try to at least eat while I’m gone. God knows we don’t have the money for a wake.”

It’s not like there were a lot of people to mourn for her anyway. My real grandparents died just after Mom married my dad and she was an only child so aunts and uncles were out of the picture.

My dad might come, though. Maybe when he’s done with his touring. I don’t exactly know where he lives because he usually just stops by Ridgewood Bay in one of his gigs to visit me. He’s a pianist and a damn good one at that. He taught me when I was a kid but I haven’t had anything to practice with so I just quit that skill altogether.

Until Charlie’s house. His basement had this rusty piano that sounded like a mix of a rat dying and sprained ghost. It wasn't good but it was a means to pass time at nights, especially when hiding from the man of the house.

I pull the blanket up to her neck and leaned in. I sniffle.

Carlo Rossi. Yup, she was drunk at six in the evening. Of-fuckin’-course. I didn’t know what else to expect.

I grab a pitcher of water from the fridge and set them next to the glass on the table. She’ll need it when she wakes up.

I turn the porch light on and lock the door behind me before heading to the car and kissing Cole over the console.

At least he was here to keep me in check.