Jonny's Redemption (Gemini Group Book 7) Riley Edwards (ebook reader screen .TXT) 📖

It was abundantly clear Mrs. Spencer had a drinking problem. It could also be undisputed she couldn’t be left on her own while her son was out of town. I wasn’t sure if she’d even taken out the garbage in the last month. If the smell was anything to go by, she hadn’t. Dishes were piled in the sink, though not as bad as it could’ve been which meant she probably hadn’t eaten a whole lot. But what she lacked in plates and forks in the sink, she made up for in empty wine, vodka bottles, and glasses.

I started with the empties—Jonny didn’t need to see the evidence of his mother’s problem. After I’d gathered all the bottles and found the trash bags, I filled two. Yes, two trash bags full of empty alcohol bottles. Not a drop left in any of them. When I was done with that, I placed them by the back door because Mrs. Spencer hadn’t put her outside cans at the curb to be picked up by the garbage truck, therefore I had to shove the kitchen trash in the last of the space left in the cans. After that, I tackled cleaning the kitchen.

The house smelled atrocious and I feared it was from more than the overflowing trashcan. It reeked of vomit. I’d searched the common rooms and couldn’t find the source but I’d yet to get into Mrs. Spencer’s room. As soon as we’d walked in, she promptly hightailed into the master bedroom and shut the door. I’d been there a hot minute and had all the windows open but the stench was not dissipating. I bleached the kitchen and the unpleasantness of puke mingled with Clorox.

Unfortunately, Jonny didn’t miss the odor when he walked in the door.

“What the fuck?” His nose scrunched as he sniffed the air. Then his eyes dropped to my yellow-gloved hands and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What. The. Fuck?”

“Jonny,” I whispered.

I didn’t know what else to say. He knew. It didn’t matter that I cleaned away the bottles and scrubbed the kitchen—he still knew. I wondered how many times he’d found his mother’s house in this state. Then I wondered why his mother still lived in the house that Jonny had grown up in. The same house where her husband and son were killed. The same room I was now standing in.

Why would she force Jonny to relive the nightmare every time he came to see her?

God, that was fucked-up.

I couldn’t stop the chill that ran up my spine. Yes, it was so much better that my mother bailed when she did. I would rather live the rest of my life with the fear of abandonment coursing through my veins than have to watch my mother live like Mrs. Spencer did. It was beyond cruel. I hated Jonny being in this house.

“How many bags did you haul outside, Bobby? Two? Three?”

Damn.

“Two,” I answered him honestly.

A door creaked open and suddenly Mrs. Spencer appeared. She hadn’t changed her clothes. This was unfortunate.

“You’re unbelievable,” he hissed. “You play the part well. Mourning widow in funeral black, visiting her loving husband on his birthday. Though you always did, didn’t you? The good wife, standing by her husband, pretending to be a perfect family. When it was all a bunch of shit.”

“Jonathan,” Mrs. Spencer gasped.

Her scared gaze skidded to me but she couldn’t draw up the courage to ask me to leave even if the request was clear. She didn’t want me to know the truth and had no way of knowing I already did.

“You could’ve killed someone!” he roared.

Waves of hostility rolled off of Jonny, the air so thick with anger it was enough to choke an elephant. Mrs. Spencer had the good sense to flinch but didn’t offer an apology.

“Jesus Christ. You don’t even care. You’re so far up your own ass, drunk all the time you do not care you could’ve killed someone today. Tell me, Ma,” he spat the word like it tasted bad. “How many times did you drive to the liquor store smashed? More worried about another bottle of vodka than some innocent motorist on the road. Is it worth it? Huh? Tell me, is it so important you stay numb to your lies that you’d risk killing someone?”

“Today’s hard for me, Jonathan. You know that. Your father—”

“Stop talking,” he cut her off. “I’m done.”

“Your father—”

“You mean the piece of shit who cheated on you? That father? The one who brought his love child into my home and crushed my mother. That father? The one who continued to fuck other women while you raised his child. That’s the father you’re talking about? Because if you are, I’ll tell you I hope he’s rotting in hell. I don’t give the first fuck it’s his birthday. I don’t care if it’s hard on you. And you wanna know why? Because I am done watching you slowly kill yourself. I’m done with you picking him over me. I’m done with you pretending that we were some happy family when we absolutely were not. I hated him while he was breathing and I hate him now.”

Jonny pulled out his phone and started stabbing at the screen. Through this, I was watching Mrs. Spencer and to my horror, she didn’t get on her knees and beg her son’s forgiveness for hurting him. She didn’t sob her apology and tell him she loved him more than life. She stood silently looking like she was the wounded party.

I looked back at Jonny and my heart broke. He didn’t look like a man who was done. He looked like a man who was beaten down. A boy who loved his ma. Why couldn’t she see what she was doing to Jonny? Or if she did, why didn’t she care?

“Yeah, Uncle Bryan.” Jonny’s voice boomed through the room. “Sorry to bother you but we have a problem. If you can, I need you to come down and talk to your