Sal (The Ride Series) by Megan O'Brien Page B

whenever I’ve been in those fancy places, I feel like sort of an imposter,” I confessed.
    He took my chin and turned my face toward his. “Baby, you’re the classiest woman I’ve ever met. You don’t have to come from money to have class, believe me. I know,” he emphasized. “You’d fit in anywhere,” he said firmly. “And you’re not a hypocrite. I never asked. That’s on me,” he said with regret clear in his features.
    “Yeah, well, it’s not stuff I’m thrilled to share,” I muttered.
    “I understand,” he nodded and I knew he did.
    I needed to grab a couple of things from my place before we headed back to Sal’s. We needed to talk about our living situation at some point, but for now, I was content to stay with him. When I’d hedged the topic briefly over dinner, his exact words had been “you’re in my bed, babe.”
    That was that, for now anyway.
    He pulled the bike up near my place and turned off the engine, indicating he planned to come up with me.
    My overprotective man.
    We walked toward my building. I noticed he still didn’t hold my hand or put an arm around me, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.
    When I saw the hunched figure sitting on the steps, which led to my building, I froze mid-stride in panic and shock. Sal made it two strides ahead of me before he realized I’d stopped moving and turned back to me, his head cocked to the side in question.
    “What, baby?” he asked, clearly concerned at whatever look was plastered on my face. I couldn’t spare him an explanation or even a look. My eyes were riveted on the figure of my mother.
    She looked much older than the last time I’d seen her, her skin sallow and her dark hair speckled with grey. She’d always looked older than her years from hard living, but I was still speechless at her transformation. She was barely recognizable. Her clothes hung off her thin frame and as her glassy eyes turned to me, I thought I might be sick.
    “There you are, you little brat,” she spat with annoyance.
    I braced my shoulders and stood straight, my eyes meeting her disdain head on. I would be damned if I gave her the satisfaction of knowing her words still hurt, despite them being the only ones I ever got from her.
    “Yes, Mother, how lovely to see you,” I returned with mock sweetness.
    Sal stiffened beside me and looked at me with clear shock. Having him meet my mother felt like a real-life nightmare. I felt completely exposed and vulnerable at having him witness the absolute shit I came from.
    “Don’t give me that attitude, girl,” she warned, standing up to glare at me.
    I snorted. “You hardly get to tell me how to act. How the hell do you know where I live?” I demanded.
    “I have friends,” she replied.
    “Yeah, the same friends who told you I had the money to pay off your loan shark?” I hissed. “Now, what the fuck do you want?”
    I felt Sal at my back and, although this whole thing was beyond humiliating, it was reassuring to have his warmth and strength behind me.
    “We need money,” she said bluntly. I had to fight the urge not to laugh. This was just fucking perfect.
    “And you’re still thinking I have the kind of money you need to pull yourself out of this?” I asked incredulously. “I told you over the phone, whoever told you that was lying. They paid me a visit, too,” I told her, pointing to my fading bruises. “Nearly put me in the hospital, for nothing ,” I seethed.
    Her expression blanched for a brief moment before she quickly recovered her scowl.
    “You look like you’re doing just fine to me,” she retorted, gesturing to my dress and ignoring Sal’s fierce expression. Clearly my bruises weren’t even worthy of a response.
    “Yeah, well, I work hard and I have enough for what I need now that you and the old man aren’t stealing every penny I earn,” I snapped. “But that doesn’t mean I’m living some grand lifestyle, Ma.”
    “Always thought you were better than us,” she sneered,