Unbreakable by Alison Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

mice these days. Depending on how my financesshake out”—and what a joke that was—“I’ll eventually look into central air.”
    After a long moment spent blinking and staring, Clay asked, “You saying you don’t have any money?”
    “No. I’m saying I have to be careful with what I have.” Another joke. He was becoming a regular comedian.
    That seemed to satisfy the boy. “What happens once the house is cleaned up? Are you going to move back in?”
    Casper hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know. Another bridge I’ll worry about when the time comes.”
    “You had to have been thinking something. Before you found me here. You stopped, and all.”
    What he’d been thinking was best not put into words. “I’d just got the letter telling me the place was mine. Thought it best I see what I’d inherited.”
    “Your folks die or something?”
    “Nah. My old lady just didn’t want it anymore.”
    “Guess she hasn’t lived here in a while.”
    “She’s been in Vegas for years, but I don’t know when exactly she moved. I’ve been gone since I was eighteen. Just came back this summer.”
    “You’re like, what, forty or something?”
    Jesus. “I’m thirty-three.”
    “That’s a long time not to see your mom.”
    “Clay…” Casper hesitated. He was the least equipped person he knew to advise on familial relationships. “My mother wasn’t much of one. Not all mothers are.”
    “Mine was,” the boy said, his tone hurt, his posture defensive. “She was the best.”
    “I’m sure she was. I didn’t know her well, but I do know she loved you.” He didn’t know anything of the sort. He just figuredit was something the kid deserved to hear. “She talked about you a lot.”
    “Didn’t figure y’all were into talking.”
    Because they were too busy screwing
. Clay didn’t have to say the words for Casper to hear them. “Spending time with women is a lot more fun when you both talk about things that matter, and me and Angie did that. About rodeo and about Albuquerque. And about you.”
    “Whatever.”
    Jesus H. Teenagers. Casper reached into the past, grasping for something. “She talked about you and your books. She was damn proud of that, you reading instead of spending all your time in front of a computer or Playstation.”
    Clay shrugged. “I like stories. The best games have stories. But I left my laptop at home so I’ve been grabbing books where I can.”
    Something about that had Casper’s antennae twitching. “Whaddaya mean, grabbing books?”
    “Used stores toss out old ones. New stores throw away ones that don’t have any covers. It’s trash. It’s not like I’m stealing.”
    Eh, they might have to disagree on that. “What else have you been digging out of the trash?”
    “Food for Kevin sometimes. And other stuff.”
    “Food for you?”
    “You figure out the best places to look, the best times.” He flipped his hair out of his face again. “I mean, I’m not going to eat spoiled meat or rotten eggs, but someone tosses out half a Big Mac? Yeah. I’ll bite. Better than Vienna sausages and cheese crackers.”
    Jesus H. Christ. “Your mom talk to you about looking a gift horse in the mouth?”
    Clay dropped his gaze to his too-big feet, shuffled them. “Thanks for the food.”
    That was better. “It’s just for a night.”
    Another shuffle, his soles squeaking against the floor. “You say so.”
    “I do,” Casper said, realizing such backtalk would’ve earned him a fist to the face from his old man. “I stopped by to take a look at the place. I wasn’t expecting visitors. I’m a little blindsided, but I’m working to catch up.”
    “Yeah,” was all Clay said.
    Okay. Change of subject. “When did you get here?”
    “About a week ago, I guess.”
    “And you’ve been here in the house all that time?”
    “Except when I’ve gone out for food.”
    “Did you ever think about going out for a shower?”
    Color stained the boy’s cheekbones. “I