Hotter Than Ever
Page 65

“It’ll all work out,” he assured her. “Doesn’t matter who gets what. Those are just things, and things don’t matter.”
She smiled dryly. “They do to your brother. Knowing him, he’ll want to debate every last item.”
The sedan came to a stop in front of a tall, well-maintained building. “Here we are,” Dylan said as he put the car in park. “Should I wish you luck?”
“Probably.” She sighed. “This is not gonna be fun. I’ll cab it to my parents’ house when I’m done here, and you can grab me whenever you’re done with Shanna. Oh, and tell her I say hi.”
“Sounds good, and I will.” He leaned over the center console and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Good luck. And give my brother hell—he f**king deserves it.”
Her amber-brown eyes gleamed. “Damn right he does.”
Fifteen minutes later, Dylan was driving across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County. With the radio blasting one of his favorite Nirvana songs, he headed east toward San Rafael. As sunny as it was, the temperature was only in the low sixties, and a cool breeze drifted in from the open window. He breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the solitude. Living with a roommate meant he didn’t always have a chance to be alone with his thoughts, and sometimes he craved some Dylan-time.
It wasn’t long before he reached his quaint, tree-lined street and stopped in the driveway of the ranch-style house he’d grown up in.
The house is mother had almost lost due to her gambling addiction.
Jesus.
Shutting off the engine, he grabbed his mom’s Christmas gift from the backseat, which Claire had taken painstaking care to wrap. The red-and-white-striped paper and big red bow made him smile. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought that Claire didn’t like and respect his mother.
With the gift in hand, he walked up the cobblestone path toward the front door. He let himself in without knocking, immediately struck by a wave of nostalgia as he stood in the front hall and inhaled the familiar smell of home.
“Mom?” he called.
“In here, sweetheart!”
He followed her voice into the living room, his gaze settling on the beautifully decorated tree in the corner of the room. When she’d called to wish him a merry Christmas, Shanna had told him their neighbors Charlie and Beth had helped her set up and decorate the tree, and he suddenly had the urge to go next door and thank the sweet, retired couple for helping Shanna out. Sometimes he hated the thought of his mom living alone here, with him all the way in San Diego and Chris wrapped up in his own conceited bubble.
“I’m so glad you’re home!” With a beaming smile, Shanna hurried over and wrapped her arms around him.
Dylan hugged her back, marveling over how petite she was. Her blonde head barely reached his collarbone.
“Happy holidays, Mom,” he said gruffly.
“Happy holidays, sweetheart.” She tugged on his hand, her green eyes shining happily. “Come. Sit. Tell me how you spent your holidays.”
“First I want to know all about your trip to Palm Springs.”
They settled on the oversized, peach-colored couch, and Shanna spent the next few minutes outlining everything she’d done at her friend’s ranch. She looked tanned and relaxed, and so happy that he felt like a total ass for the pain he was about to cause her.
But he couldn’t pretend everything was okay, and after they’d chatted for nearly thirty minutes, Dylan took a deep breath and finally addressed the giant elephant in the room that Shanna was oblivious to.
“Mom,” he started. Then he stopped. Cleared his throat, tried again. “Mom, there’s something we need to talk about.”
Her pale eyebrows drew together. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
“No, it isn’t. I…I know what’s been going on around here. Claire told me everything.”
Shanna looked stricken for a second. She swallowed, then pasted on a blank look. “What do you mean?”
“Please don’t lie to me.” He released a shaky exhalation. “You and Chris have been lying to me for more than a year. So please, just stop.”
“Dylan—”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the gambling?”
Shanna hesitated. Swallowed again. And then her entire face collapsed and her green eyes filled with tears. “Because I was ashamed.”
If there was one thing guaranteed to trigger his hero complex, it was a female’s tears. Especially his mother’s.
“Ah, shit. Damn it, Mom, come here.” Dylan put his arm around her trembling shoulders and held her close, his heart breaking at the sound of her quiet sobs.
She pressed her face against his chest, her voice coming out muffled. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I was so mortified. I never thought something like that could happen to me. You know me, Dylan, I’m careful with money, I don’t make impulse purchases or buy extravagant things. I…” The tears continued to fall, soaking the front of his sky-blue polo shirt. “I was embarrassed and ashamed and angry at myself for screwing up so badly.”
Sighing, he smoothed a hand over her hair. “What happened, Mom? How did it get so out of control like that?”
She lifted her head and wiped her wet eyes with the sleeve of her thin red sweater. “What did Claire tell you?”
“That you went to the casino with friends, caught the gambling bug and everything went downhill from there.”