The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

I’d rather be at the gym right now, pumping out some of my sexual frustrations, but instead I’d come to check on my mother.

“Mom, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

I stood staring at the built-in cabinet my mom was currently painting royal purple. Her living room was a clash of colors, like a rainbow had taken a shit in there. I didn’t know how her husband, Bob, put up with it, but God bless him, he did. He nodded and smiled at all of Mom’s crazy ideas, shaking his head and agreeing that it seemed like a great plan.

Bob was ten years older than my mom, and after my dad left, I was sure my mother would never love again. And then she met Bob, the owner of the auto shop where she took her car for repairs. He had been divorced for many years, and had no kids. Mom seemed to fill the void in his life, just as he did hers.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“I love purple; of course it’s a good idea. Everyone deserves to be happy in their living space, Cannon.”

My gaze drifted from hers to the front window and the cloudless sky beyond. My living space was currently Paige’s living space. The close quarters meant I was getting to know my childhood crush in ways I’d never imagined. I knew what she tasted like, how she moaned when I kissed her neck, and that she preferred almond milk in her coffee. I knew that before I came around, the most affection she got was from cuddling with her little dog. I knew she was a loyal, lifelong friend to my sister, and that she was totally off-limits.

It had been a week since we’d slept together. Five days since I’d diagnosed her with an allergy to latex. That evening we’d hung out in the living room, sharing takeout from paper cartons and reminiscing about long-forgotten childhood memories, laughing at the ridiculous reality-TV dating show that played in the background.

Thankfully, she wasn’t mad at me for her predicament. Not that it was truly my fault. I’d tried to keep us safe by using a condom, and I certainly never intended her harm.

My mom crossed the room toward where I stood, wiping her hands on her coveralls as she approached. “I love you, Cannon-ball.” She lifted on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Love you too, Mom.”

It might not look like much from an outside perspective, but even me stopping by for fifteen minutes to check on her meant a lot. Bob worked long hours as a business owner, and I knew Mom got lonely. She and I had always shared a special connection. Despite my humble upbringing and the struggles we’d been through, she never stopped pushing me, never stopped believing that I could be more. Somewhere along the way, I began to believe it. I owed her everything.

Checking my watch, I saw my lunch break was almost over. “I have to get back to the hospital.”

She nodded, then patted my shoulder. “Come by for dinner on Sunday. I’ll make your favorite.”

I didn’t have it in me to tell her that meat loaf hadn’t been my favorite since I was twelve, or that her version was like a heart attack waiting to happen. I simply nodded.

“See you then.”

Shrugging into my jacket, I headed out of the tidy and eccentric brick one-story she shared with Bob, and into the crisp autumn air.