Page 9 of Dirty Fighter

Rowan

“Don’t!” Swiping the phone off the counter before Jason can touch it, I shake my head.

Jason’s nostrils flare. “Then answer.”

I heave a breath, digging deep to sound normal. “Hey, Mom, sorry, it’s not a great time. Can I call you later?”

There’s a weighted pause. And then, “Not a great time? Did your husband die, leaving you with this disaster of an estate to sort out? Rowan, has it ever occurred to you that I might have more to do than wait for you to find a convenient moment on your island vacation to reply to my calls and messages?”

Confused, I check my notifications. Sure enough, there are six texts and three missed calls, all with the same timestamp of one minute ago.

Standing close enough that I can feel his bristling energy, Jason mouths, “No signal.”

Because even without being on speakerphone, he can hear her.

“It’s the signal, Mom,” I say, turning the volume down, but knowing it’s not enough. “You know how it is out here.”

I need space. Privacy. But my pleading look and staying hand as I walk outside don’t work.

He follows, matching me step for step. Almost like he’s made a career of refusing to let his opponent get by.

“Hmm.” Disapproval pours through the line.

“Mom, I—” I look at the man beside me, knowing this is the moment I should tell her that he’s here.

But I can’t do it to him. I know how she’ll react, what she’ll do.

This sucks so much, for so many reasons.

I thought this time on the island would be a chance for some closure. Peace. A goodbye in the only way I have left to give it. I’d thought I’d have time to myself to regroup. To think and plan. And I thought I’d finally reached the point where the leverage my mother always held over me has come to an end.

I thought I might be able to put my guilt aside.

I thought wrong. And while I know that none of this can compare to what Jason must be going through…

So instead, “I’m, umm, just getting settled.”

“Settled? You asked for this. It was your idea. And you assured me you understood the necessity for expedience.”

Jason blinks.

That couldn’t have sounded worse. I try for some damage control.

“Mom, I know how hard losing Ed has been.” I’m desperately hoping she’ll embrace the role of distraught widow instead of diving into a laundry list of affronts she suffered being married to a man who, in my estimation, was the kindest, most generous and loving man on the planet.

Depending on her mood, it could go either way. “It’s completely understandable to want to close this out so you can begin to move on. But why don’t you give me a couple days to get organized. When I have a better sense of what I’m working with, we can talk… maybe Tuesday?”

“What you’re working with…” She gives me a caustic laugh that has my stomach turning to quicksand. “…is a pile of rotting sticks filled with tasteless trash, sitting dead center on a multi-million-dollar property.”

In the periphery of my vision, Jason stops dead.

I can’t even bring myself to look at him or to whisper the apology that won’t make a dent in the words my mother just said. But I can feel the rage and betrayal coming off him in waves.

Heart sinking, all I can do is listen as she goes on. “I want the list you promised, not excuses. Itemize anything of value. You know the drill. Photos. Estimates. The rest, I want gone. Find some pay-by-the-ton junk removal service. There has to be one, even if it is some backwoods isla⁠—”

I stare at my finger still pressed against the screen, half stunned that I just hung up on my mother and half wondering why I didn’t have the sense to do it earlier.

I can deal with the fallout from her later. Blame the spotty signal for the dropped call.