BOGWITCH: raises fist GET OFF MY LAWN!
He shook his head, still chuckling, before signing off. It was kind of hysterical that she kept warning him off, telling him not to hit on her. Honestly, he had his own problems with dating anyone and tended not to hit on people, much less a grouchy elderly woman who he’d only “met” online. He wasn’t like Riley, searching for someone to nail and bail, and this late in his life, he’d given up hope on having a relationship. But he’d begun to count her as a friend . . . and he was starting to realize he had precious few of those.
CHAPTER 8
GREAT BIG LIBRARY OF EVERYTHING
Kit video called Maggie on Friday night. He took after her: shaggy dark hair rather than his father’s sandy blond, dark-brown eyes rather than hazel. It was yet one more thing that had alienated Trev, convinced that Kit had nothing in common with him, not even dominant genetics.
Nope. Not going down that road.
“How was this week?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay cheerful.
He shrugged. He had stubble, which continued to throw her, and he was wearing his favorite hooded sweatshirt, a black, thick fleece. She had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from asking if he’d washed it since he left the house. “This week was okay,” he said. “Same shit, different day.”
“Classes?”
“Fine.”
“Is your roommate there?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “He’s still rushing. I imagine he’s getting paddled by chanting, masked individuals in a candlelit basement as we speak.”
She chuckled. “You get the picture?”
“Of you with that duck-face lady with the peace sign?” He started laughing. “Yeah, I got it. You looked like you were being tortured.”
He wasn’t wrong, but she couldn’t exactly admit that. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I went. So, what did you do?”
“I haven’t gone yet.”
She tutted. “No-hypocrisy card,” she said, parroting his words back to him. “I got out there. Now you’re on deck, pal.”
He grumbled. “I am not taking a selfie,” he muttered.
“No, you don’t have to. I’m going to trust you,” she said, even though her voice was stern.
“I don’t know why it’s such a big fucking deal,” he said, and there was a definite edge to his voice. Because they were video chatting, she saw the shadow of pain that crossed his expression, one he might not have even realized until he saw himself on screen. He quickly schooled his features to a kind of implacable blank and shrugged again.
He’d learned to go featureless because of his father. She knew that.
Worse, she knew that he’d learned it from her.
She took a deep breath. “I joined a Blood Saga guild.”
His eyebrow kicked up, and his forced calm turned into amusement. “No kidding? Been a minute since I played that. Are you playing with Mac or something? I didn’t think she was that big a gamer. More into anime.”
“Mac isn’t into playing video games, especially online. Says that they’re misogynistic cesspools, and generally speaking, I can’t say I blame her. So this actually should count as making friends,” she half bragged, even as she recognized the lameness of her boasting. When you were bragging that you had made friends with （presumably） a guy who promptly hit on you, then called you a grandma, then chanted ONE OF US! at you, you weren’t winning any kind of extrovert awards. “They’re based here in Fool’s Falls. Theoretically, I could actually meet up with them face to face.”
God, she hoped that was never truly an option.
“Sure,” Kit said, with a genuine smile that warmed her. “Well, good on you.”
“You still playing online with Harrison?”
He shrugged again. “Harrison’s been busy, his job and stuff, and his girlfriend told him he was spending too much time playing video games, so . . .” He trailed off.
She winced. So not only was he alone in his new place, he was losing contact with his best friend, the closest person he had. He’d had a few other casual friends, but Harrison was like his brother. The physical distance was hard enough.
“Maybe you could join my guild?” she suggested. It’d be fun, hopefully for both of them, since they both enjoyed playing the game, and she knew the guild members, for all their shenanigans, were engaging and friendly. At the same time, it was perhaps a bit selfish. After all, she was supposed to be encouraging him to meet new people.
“What, have my mommy set up a playdate with people online?” His expression was both irritated and agonized. “Should I write ‘LOSER’ on my forehead in Sharpie, or save time and have it tattooed?”
She saw what he was saying, even as some irritation of her own struck her. “I just hate seeing you so alone,” she snapped before she could stop herself, then sighed, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”
His expression softened. “I know,” he said quietly. “But, Mom, you can’t fix everything for me.”
She nodded, knowing that logically. But she hated it.
“I just don’t want you to devolve into some neckbeard incel who starts shit conversations with ‘let me play devil’s advocate here’ and trolls people on Reddit,” she tried to joke, forcing a grin.
He grinned back. It was small, but she’d take it. “Damn. And I was planning on gatekeeping comics and Marvel movies, and making girls prove their geek credentials.”
She shook her head. “We both know I raised you better than that,” she said. “Speaking of girls, though . . .”
“Ugh.” He covered his face with his hands. “God, no. Please.”
“I’m just saying, anybody interesting? See anybody in your classes or your dorm or anything?”
He put his hands down. “I don’t know. I haven’t really talked to anybody.”
“But has there been anybody who caught your attention? Anybody who seems nice?”
He rolled his eyes. “Mom, I beg of you. Stop.”
“Okay,” she conceded, “that was invasive.”
“You know, you don’t need to have quite this level of interest in my personal life,” he pointed out. “It’s not healthy.”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But besides loving you and, strangely enough, liking you as a person, I guess I just want to make sure that I didn’t fuck you up irrevocably with my less than stellar parenting skills.”
She winced. She was joking.
Kind of.
But not really.
She knew that he knew, too, when she saw him tilt his head, studying her in a way he had occasionally when he was in high school. When Trev had left and moved to Wyoming, he hadn’t come back to see Kit and had barely called. He’d traded alimony for giving her ownership of the house, even though honestly that had been more of a burden than a gift. He’d paid child support, but there hadn’t been a single birthday card or Christmas present. Kit had been hurt—but also somewhat relieved, since Trev had seemed incapable of hiding how disappointed he was with his only child and the wife who refused to let him be as harsh as he wanted to.
She’d done everything she could to make up the shortfall, but as amazing and wonderful a kid as Kit was, she still could see the cracks that the whole situation had left in him, the barely visible scars. It was why he tended to try parenting her, something she hated.