The World As He Sees It by Arthur A. M

Author:Arthur, A. M. [Arthur, A. M.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: friends to lovers, brain injury, character with disability, small town, porn star, m/m, new adult
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2015-10-20T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Shattering glass roused Gabe from a deep sleep, and he floundered a moment. His room. Monday. What the hell—?

Shit, Debbie.

He tripped over a pair of sneakers in his haste to get out of his room and down the hall to Debbie’s. She stood in the midst of a sea of broken glass, staring down like she didn’t know how it had gotten there. Gabe identified the shards as the remains of a blue vase that used to sit on her dresser. One of many things she’d ordered off QVC and one of the few she’d ever actually used.

“Debbie, don’t move,” he said. “Are you cut?”

“No.” The bland reply held no emotion whatsoever. She also wasn’t very stable on her feet.

“Okay, hold still for one minute.”

He dashed back to his room for a pair of shoes then returned to her. He gently stepped over the glass so he could pick her up. She was tiny compared to him, and he deposited her on the messy bed.

“Hang out while I get the vacuum cleaner,” he said. No response. “Debbie?”

“Okay.”

Miraculously, she stayed put while he lugged the ancient vacuum upstairs and cleaned up the mess. The biggest shards went into the bathroom trash can, and he sucked up the smaller bits. Debbie watched him with a blank expression, unaffected by the entire thing while Gabe was barely keeping a lid on his frustration. He was exhausted of cleaning up after her, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Did you knock it off the dresser?” he asked.

“Dropped it.”

“Why?”

“Don’t like it anymore. It’s ugly.”

“So you broke a forty dollar art glass vase?”

“Yes.”

Goddamn her.

She had no concept of money, never had, but this was beyond idiotic. She could have given it away, traded it, hell, tried to sell it on Craigslist. But no. She gave no thought to how hard Gabe worked to keep the mortgage paid and the electricity on and the credit card minimums up to date. Debbie didn’t want the vase anymore, so she trashed it. She trashed whatever she didn’t like at any given moment, including him, and he was done.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“I could have cleaned it up.”

“You’d have shredded your hands and feet to ribbons.”

“I can clean up after myself. I’m a grown woman.”

“Yeah, and you’re a fucking alcoholic.”

The blankness lifted, replaced by a deadly glare he knew too well. The anger that came before the attack. “Don’t you call me that, boy. I am your mother.”

His own frustration boiled out of control. “You haven’t been a mother to me since I was a child. I am living here taking care of you, not the other way around.”

She launched off the bed, her small hands beating at his forearm and shoulder. “Don’t talk to me like that, you ungrateful brat!”

“I’m ungrateful?” He shoved her back, hard enough for her to stumble against the far wall. “I pay for everything around here. I clean this house. I clean you up when you drink so much you vomit everywhere except the john.

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