Tyler
“Dude, mall, after school.” Micheal’s message read the next morning. I just sighed, dragging a shirt over my head before heading downstairs.
I paused halfway, my eyes settling on Mom.
She was home by…I checked the time. It was way past when she usually rushed off to one of her big companies.
But she was there—relaxed against a couch, a glass of wine in her hand. And across from her was one woman I recognized as one of her rivals.
They were speaking in such low tones, it’d take a miracle to hear what they were saying without extremely straining your ear.
I just ran a hand through my hair, slung my bag over my shoulder, and moved toward the door.
“Tyler,” Mom called without turning.
My hand slid off the doorknob as I looked back.
“Brooklyn’s birthday.” She said calmly.
Of c
